


maybe this christmas

by you_explode



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Babysitter Harry, Christmas, Christmas activities, Elf Niall Horan, Fluff, Implied Mpreg, Kid Fic, M/M, No Smut, Pining, Single Parent Louis Tomlinson, a lotttt of harry with louis's kid, dad louis, specifically christmas magic, very minor ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_explode/pseuds/you_explode
Summary: Harry lives next door to Louis and babysits his daughter. He might be hopelessly in love with Louis and desperate to be part of his little family, but he’s ignoring that in favour of trying to make Louis’s busy life as easy as possible. When he finds out Louis and his daughter don’t believe in Santa - someone who is universally considered a real person - he makes it his mission to convince them. Along the way he takes in a man who may or may not actually be Santa, and everyone’s Christmas wishes might come true.A Miracle on 34th Street AU.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 168
Collections: 1D Christmas Fest 2020





	maybe this christmas

**Author's Note:**

> hiii! this is for the 1dchristmasfest, for the prompt “WHAT DO YOU MEAN SANTA ISN’T REAL???” which immediately sent my brain to miracle on 34th street. to read the other fabulous fics in the fest, please [click here!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/1dchristmasfest2020)  
> and thank you so much to chloe for all your work putting this together, and for being so understanding/supportive when i broke my macbook /o\
> 
> ok! so i'm gonna need you to suspend your disbelief on a bunch of subjects here, firstly 1) magic, specifically ~christmas magic~, 2) lawyers. how do they work idk, 3) the process of ‘sectioning’, i did some research and then made stuff up, 4) mpreg just casually existing (although it’s literally only referred to twice). this is just... not a realistic fic.
> 
> definite warnings for: ableist language (several discussions about people being ‘delusional’), mentions of abandonment issues/childhood trauma re abandonment. also, there have been no family deaths in this; jay in particular is in a couple scenes.  
> also kind of a warning, kind of a note: i really haven’t delved into how other religious holidays would be affected by santa being real. i guess in this fic christmas is pretty much entirely secular??? idrk, you can decide. i didn’t have the energy for very much worldbuilding here lmao.
> 
> lastly, i feel kind of weird posting this with the way covid's affected christmas. there is no pandemic in this fic so hopefully it can be an escape from reality for a bit haha. i hope you're all doing okay <3

**Monday, December 1st**

Harry’s stood outside a classroom, surrounded by parents, waiting for a child that isn’t his. He used to feel a bit awkward doing school pickups, but now he’s used to it, and today he’s just excited. It’s the first day of December, after all; he wonders if Louis’s put up a tree yet, maybe yesterday like Harry had himself. Or if not, if he could help do it.

A stream of kids trickle out of the classroom, and Harry hears her before he sees her.

“Hazzy!” 

There she is, her hair in golden brown braids and a big gap-toothed smile on her face. Her happiness at simply seeing him makes Harry’s heart feel too big for his chest.

“Tashie!” Harry responds.

Natasha breaks away from the other kids and rushes towards him, wrapping her arms around his legs and crushing him in a hug. Harry giggles and hugs her back as best he can, then takes her bag from her, and then they’re off.

“How was your day, angel?” Harry asks as they make their way to the school gates, Natasha’s tiny hand holding his tightly.

“Really good!” she chirps. “Miss Edwards gave me seven stickers on my Rewards card!”

“Did she really?” Harry says. Every day he picks her up, she lets him know she was rewarded for her good behaviour that day, and Harry always feigns amazement. Really he’s come to expect it, but he’s still extraordinarily proud of her. “You really must be outstanding.”

Natasha giggles, and then continues telling him about her day. Harry marvels in all the right places, especially when she tells him about the fractions they did in maths. She doesn’t call them fractions, but that’s what they are, and she’s only in first year. Maybe Harry’s remembering wrong, but he feels like he was much older before he could do that. 

Natasha trails off from her long-winded story about the argument her friends had had at lunch, and says, “Hazzy,” with quite a serious face.

“What is it, angel?”

“Will Daddy be home before I go to bed tonight?”

Harry’s heart sinks. She sounds sad, resigned, but with a twinge of hope. Harry doesn’t know when Louis will be home, and he doesn’t want to break her heart yet again.

“I hope so, darling, but I don’t know,” Harry says, squeezing her hand. Her mouth downturns and twitches, like she’s trying to keep her feelings in, so Harry says, “Hey, why don’t you help me make Daddy’s dinner? Then if he comes home early, he can eat with us.”

“And if he doesn’t, he can take the leftovers to work tomorrow and think of us?” Natasha says, and it sounds verbatim like something Louis’s said, which makes sense. This happens fairly often. Maybe Harry should talk to Louis about it, tell him how Natasha clearly misses him.

Then again… it really isn’t his place. And Louis probably already knows.

“Exactly right, smarty pants,” Harry says. “So, tell me more about Ava and Lily then, what happened next?”

❄

Harry’s known Natasha and Louis for almost a year. He lives in the flat next door, and he kept running into them. Natasha used to compliment his hair or his boots or his shirt, and so he’d have little conversations with her sometimes where they’d exchange compliments. That was it. Then, in March, Harry had been in the lift with them when Louis got a phone call from his babysitter, cancelling. He was in a bind, and Harry was free and loves kids, so he’d offered. Louis really hadn’t had much of a choice, as he was just dropping Tash off before going to a business dinner. Harry and Natasha had bonded properly that night; he’s so endeared by her and she just adores him, which honestly makes him feel rather special.

Anyway, it turned out Louis’s nanny had moved away, and as he’s a busy lawyer, he’d been struggling from babysitter to babysitter, hoping to find a more permanent solution but not really having the time to search. Enter Harry, who works for the local preschool, loves kids, and is free in the afternoons. Since Louis’s sister can mind Tash on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Harry finishes work at 2:20 instead of 4pm on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and heads across the street to pick up Tash, and then spends the evening with her until Louis eventually comes home. He also gets her on random weekends if Louis’s got work events.

They’re honestly, easily the best days of his week. Harry loves Tash; he hadn’t thought he could feel more fulfilled after he started at the preschool - he knows how rewarding working with kids is for him - but somehow, spending all this time with a kid who openly adores him is, well. It’s an ego boost, but it’s also a near-daily dose of happiness, and Harry feels as though his life has well and truly changed for the better in the last year.

There’s only one small downside, and it’s the way his heart pounds whenever Louis is actually around. Harry’s had a crush on him since he first saw him, because he’s ridiculously attractive, with his scruff and his fringe and his bright blue eyes. Louis’s fucking magnificent to look at as well as just to be around; he’s radiating with power one moment and then soft and snuggly with his daughter the next. Harry is fascinated by him, and so drawn to him, even though he’s really not around that much. And it’s funny, because maybe if it were anyone else, Harry would only see how disappointed his child is, but because it’s Louis, Harry’s got buckets of sympathy. Louis just works so _hard_ to provide for his little family.

Harry wishes he had a solution. He’s told Louis that he would happily mind Natasha for free, or for much less than Louis pays him, but Louis won’t have it. Maybe, as it’s coming into Christmas, Harry could try persuading him again. He’d much rather Louis keep his money if it meant he and Natasha could spend more time together. Especially at Christmas.

But maybe it’s a good thing Louis pays him. After all, it helps him curb the silly thoughts he has when he’s making dinner with Tash or putting her to bed, and the sinking feeling he has when he goes home at night - it feels all too domestic sometimes. Harry keeps forgetting that they’re not his family, Louis isn’t his husband, Natasha isn’t his daughter. In the grand scheme of things, he’s just their helpful neighbour, and while Harry can’t stand being reminded of that, it’s probably good for him. Keeps him in check.

❄

“Are you excited to put up the Christmas tree soon?” Harry asks as they make dinner. He’d noticed immediately that their flat was just as devoid of decorations as it was last week.

Natasha stares at him blankly, and it dawns on Harry that maybe the Tomlinsons don’t celebrate Christmas. He’s berating himself for being so insensitive, but then she says, “It’s much too early for a Christmas tree, Hazzy.” Very matter-of-factly, as if he should know this.

“Oh,” Harry says. “When do you put yours up?”

“The twentieth of December,” Natasha parrots. “When I was four, I learned the calendar, and Daddy said the twentieth of December is the day we decorate for Christmas.”

“Oh,” Harry says again, feeling deflated. He doesn’t want to impose on the way Louis does things, but Harry’s always done his decorating in the first few days of December. That way he gets to enjoy them all month long. Twenty days is an awfully long time to wait, especially for a child. “Do you mind waiting so long?”

Tash shrugs. “No,” she says. “Christmas isn’t that exciting anyway.”

Harry stops mid-potato peel and stares at her. _Christmas_ ?? Isn’t _exciting_??? She’s six years old, for crying out loud. Christmas and her birthday are supposed to be the most important days of her year.

But maybe he’s imposing his own childhood ideals onto her. Harry reminds himself that Christmas isn’t a big deal for a lot of people. He’s just surrounded by kids at preschool who are already keen for Christmas, they’ve warped his perspective. He’s not going to pry any further.

Louis isn’t home by the time tea is ready, and Natasha pouts for a few minutes until Harry tells her they can eat in the lounge and watch Moana. She’s happily halfway through her dinner when the door opens and Louis’s keys jingle as they hit the hall table.

Natasha gives Harry a wide-eyed look, and then thrusts her plate into his thankfully empty hand, hops off the sofa and runs to meet Louis in the doorway. He crouches down and she collides into his arms, and Harry busies himself putting both of their unfinished plates on the coffee table. His heartstrings can only take so much.

“Hiya Harry,” Louis says, looking at him warmly from beside Natasha’s head. “Had a good evening?”

“Hi, Lou,” Harry says. He can hear the ridiculous fondness in his voice, but he can never seem to rein it in. “Good, yeah. There’s dinner for you in the oven, might even still be hot.”

“We made it!” Tash announces from where she’s still wrapped around Louis. “I helped loads!”

Louis chuckles. “I bet it’s amazing, sweetheart, but you have to let me go so I can get some.”

Natasha lets go of him, and Harry can see her frown. 

“Come back here, angel, let’s finish ours before it goes cold.”

“I’ll just be a second,” Louis calls, so Natasha hops back up next to Harry and takes her plate.

They’ve only had a few more bites by the time Louis comes back. 

“Was warm enough,” he explains, and Tash pushes at Harry until he moves further down the sofa, so there’s enough room for Louis on her other side.

“Thanks, love,” Louis laughs, settling down and digging in. 

Harry tries to focus on Moana struggling to sail her boat instead of the little appreciative noises Louis’s making.

“This is really good, guys,” Louis says. “You should start up your own business.”

Harry flushes; it’s just roast chicken and veg, really not very special, but there’s something about providing food for Louis, and him enjoying it, that touches Harry at his core.

Maybe it’s his domestic goddess fantasies being almost realised. Or maybe he thinks that if he makes himself valuable enough, Louis will want to keep him.

“We should!” Natasha squeaks. “We could call ourselves… Haz and Tash, Homemade Mash!”

Harry giggles and Louis blinks at her. “When have you made mash?” he asks.

“Well, I haven’t,” Natasha says. “I was after the rhyme. But I watched Hazzy do it last week. It can’t be that hard.”

“Is that so,” Louis says, looking amused, probably by her confidence.

“She’s a real, professional chef now Lou,” Harry says. “You’ve been warned.”

“Yeah, Hazzy said I’m not a beginner anymore,” Tash says. “And he knows how to cook, Daddy, so he knows what he’s talking about.”

Louis swallows his mouthful and squints at her. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Well, you don’t know how to cook, so Hazzy knows better than you,” she says bluntly, and Harry laughs while Louis looks affronted.

“I can cook!” he says after spluttering for a moment. “Just because I don’t like to, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Hazzy’s still better’n you.”

Harry watches, amused, as Louis’s mouth drops open and he puts his plate on the coffee table. Then he tickles Natasha until Maui’s song comes on and they all have to stop and sing together.

❄

It’s lovely having Louis home early. Harry still goes through Natasha’s bedtime routine with her, because Louis is answering phone calls, but the flat just feels cheerier with him around. Tash is certainly happier, and she’s drifting off much earlier into her story than usual, like her happiness tuckered her out.

“Hazzy,” she interrupts him sleepily, her eyelids almost shut. “C’n you get Daddy to say ‘night now?”

“Okay, angel,” Harry says, closing the book and putting it on her bedside table. He kisses her forehead before he stands up. “Goodnight from me, first. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“See you Wes’day,” she mumbles, and Harry quickly takes off and finds Louis in the lounge, thankfully not on the phone.

“Tash is two seconds from sleep,” he says. 

Louis drops the papers he’s holding. “Shit, I didn’t realise how late it was,” he says, standing up and following Harry back to her room.

It looks like she’s asleep, but Tash squints her eyes open as soon as Louis sits on her bed and Harry turns off her light.

“Night, Daddy,” she says. 

“Goodnight, my darling,” Louis says softly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. He’s so _soft_. Harry’s still in the doorway, and maybe he shouldn’t be, but he can’t resist. This might be his favourite time of day, whenever he gets to see it; Louis is so cute and gentle, Natasha is so cute and sleepy, and they’re bathed in soft light from the city outside. It’s gorgeous to witness.

“Love you,” Tash mumbles.

“Love you more,” Louis says, gentle but fierce. “Sweet dreams.” He kisses her forehead again, and Harry slips out of the doorway and heads to the lounge to gather his stuff.

When he’s got everything, he turns around to see Louis watching him with a smile.

“Thanks for today,” Louis says, like he does every time. Like Harry’s made some sort of sacrifice. Sometimes Harry wonders if he really doesn’t see how he and his daughter have changed Harry’s life.

“Was my pleasure,” Harry says, like he always does. “I wanted to talk to you, though.”

“Oh?” Louis looks instantly concerned. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, she’s good as gold,” Harry reassures him. “No, I was just wondering… We were talking about Christmas, and she said you don’t put up your tree until the twentieth?”

 _“Oh,”_ Louis chuckles, obviously relieved. “Yeah. We don’t actually do anything Christmassy at all until the twentieth. That’s when I’m off work, see, I never really have the time before that. School’s normally out by then too.”

Harry bites his lip. It’s really not his place, but also, he personally won’t be able to wait that long. He wants to start celebrating Christmas with his favourite kid _now_. “Do you mind if… well.”

Louis smiles. “What is it, Harry?” he coaxes softly.

“Well, I was just thinking, if you don’t mind, and you don’t have the time, maybe Tash and I could do some decorations early? Unless you want to do it with her, of course - I’m probably overstepping - ”

Louis’s watching him ramble with a measured look that Harry can’t read, but then he shrugs. “You’re not, if you want to,” he says. “I don’t mind. We’ve never much gotten into Christmas, but feel free. She’ll probably enjoy it.”

Harry nods, biting down his smile. “I thought she might,” he says. “We’ll see on Wednesday, anyway. If she wants to.”

Louis smiles at him, so Harry feels free to beam back. “Try not to give in to her every whim, yeah?” he says with a laugh. “Only do as much as you want to.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He would happily turn Louis’s flat into Santa’s Workshop given the chance; he doubts Tash is the one who’ll need to be reigned in.

“Oh, and I’m sorry in advance for the pathetic state of our tree.”

Harry assures him it will be fine, and then he’s off. He’s in high spirits, eager to brainstorm all of the Christmassy things he might be able to do with Natasha over the coming weeks.

❄❄❄

**Tuesday, December 2nd**

Harry can’t get home fast enough. He’s never actually been grateful for his days off from minding Natasha, but today he is, because he’s got planning to do. All day he’s had Christmas ideas swirling through his mind, he’s been itching to make lists and plans but he’s had to ignore that to focus on work and his other kids.

Now he’s home, and he’s finally got time. 

He feeds his cat first, as she’s meowing at him as soon as he gets in the door. She’s on a slightly weird feeding schedule thanks to his odd hours; breakfast around seven, first dinner between three and five (the earlier point on his days with Natasha, since they’ll stop in at Harry’s flat first to feed her so he doesn’t have to worry about her for the rest of the evening), and second dinner around ten, when Harry gets back in, because it’s been too long since she was last fed. Or, on his days without Tash, he’ll usually give her cat milk before bed, which she’s obsessed with.

She’s a ball of orange and white fluff and her name’s Olivia. Harry’s sister had gotten her for him on his birthday this year, since she was ‘worried about him being lonely’ after his move to Manchester. Harry hadn’t even realised he was lonely until he had Olivia, just a kitten then, who was immediately in love with him and shadowed him everywhere. She’s his baby and also his little best friend.

Fortunately, she’s also very independent, and quickly got used to his odd hours. She doesn’t seem to mind being alone for large portions of the day, but she’ll often stick by his side when he is home. She’s affectionate and playful too, always sleeping beside him and waking him up with little cat kisses to the face. And she never minds when he picks her up and gives her cuddles, always purring away while he kisses her head. She’s adorable and perfect and she’s brightened up his life so much. 

He’s also absurdly proud of her name; it suits her so well for how much he loves her. He’ll often sing ‘Olivia, Olivia, I love ya,’ at her, and he’s well on his way to crafting an entire song for her at this point.

She’s happily munching on her food, so Harry sits at his kitchen table. He pushes back thoughts of the end of year assessments and next year’s class lists he needs to do, and grabs one of his non-work journals from the pile of organised mess he keeps on his table.

_CHRISTMAS WITH NATASHA  
_ _tree!!!  
_ make decorations with her!  
make list of xmas films to watch  
bake xmas cookies!! + other sweets  
make spotify playlist? update our playlist?  
ice skating?  
go and see santa?  
pray for snow!!

That’s enough for now, he thinks. At some point he’ll figure out which days they can do which things, but as of now he’s only decided that tomorrow is for the tree and maybe some baking.

He makes a list of Christmas films, too, from memory, thinking he’ll add to it later.

That done, he gets out his laptop and finds the folder he has full of Christmas films that aren’t available on streaming services - niche ones from his childhood, mostly. Louis’s got Netflix, Disney+, Sky TV, and just about every streaming service available - he’s complained about it, hates that there’s not just one thing with everything, and ended his rants by throwing his arms up and decrying capitalism. And Harry agrees with him, but it’s a funny thing to hear from a man who spends most of his life at work.

Though of course, people who can’t afford a work-life balance have more reason to hate capitalism than most, Harry figures. 

Anyway. Louis has every streaming service known to man, but that isn’t going to be enough. Harry scans the folder, checking he’s got all the films he wants. He’ll have to edit Love Actually into something kid-friendly if he wants to show Tash, but otherwise he thinks everything’s there. Louis’s also got a Chromecast, so he can just bring his laptop over and cast to the telly. Sorted.

The Christmas buzz in his mind calmed slightly, he sighs and grabs his bag to pull out the schoolwork he needs to do.

❄

After he’s done some work and had dinner, he settles down on his sofa with Olivia and a mug of hot chocolate. He pops on Love Actually, thinking he should watch it to see what he’ll need to cut out if he wants to show it to Tash. Except that’s a flimsy excuse since he knows it by heart, but Olivia’s the only one around to judge and she doesn’t mind.

The only lights in the room are flickering from his Christmas tree. This is Olivia’s first Christmas, so Harry had worried she might attack the tree to play with the baubles, but she doesn’t seem interested at all. It’s like she knows it’s not to be touched.

Harry rubs her head, feeling one of his many bursts of love towards her, and she closes her eyes, curls up and purrs. He continues patting her absently as he drinks his hot chocolate and watches the film, content and Christmassy and excited for the month to come.

❄❄❄

**Wednesday, December 3rd**

“Hazzy!”

“Tashie!”

A little ball of energy crashes into Harry’s legs. He’d been talking to Adam Prendergast, whose daughter is in Tash’s class. She’d also gone to Harry’s preschool two years ago, and their younger son goes there now, so Adam and his wife are some of the most familiar faces here. Harry’s always glad to see them.

But Natasha’s tugging on his hand, so Harry says goodbye to Adam and leads Tash out of school. They go through their usual routine - Natasha tells him about school and Harry marvels - until she runs out of steam.

“Guess what we’re doing this afternoon?” Harry says, wondering if Louis has told her.

It appears he hasn’t, as Natasha’s brows furrow thoughtfully. “Homework?” she guesses, and Harry laughs.

“We’ll do a bit of homework, yes,” he says, because they do every day. Not even Christmas is more important than homework. “But we’re also going to put up your Christmas tree!”

Natasha’s surprised, but not as excited as Harry had expected. “Without Daddy?”

“Well, I thought it might be nice to surprise Daddy, since he won’t have time to help right now,” Harry says. “But you can wait until the 20th to do it with him if you like.”

Natasha purses her lips in thought. “I want to surprise him,” she decides. “Maybe when he sees how nice it looks, he’ll want to be home more.”

“Oh, Tashie,” Harry says, his heart hurting. “He _wants_ to be home with you, little love. He can’t help having to work.”

“Okay,” Natasha frowns, kicking at a rock. She sounds like she doesn’t believe him. 

Harry really has to figure out a way to get Louis home more often.

❄

Natasha’s set up at the coffee table with her homework, so Harry goes off in search of their Christmas decorations. Louis had texted him yesterday and said they were in the hall cupboard, but it seems like they’re buried under every other thing in there; Harry has to dig them out.

He bangs around, making a load of noise, and Natasha calls out, “Hazzy? Do you need help?”

Harry has to laugh at her cute little voice. “No, love, do your homework,” he yells back.

“Okaaaaay, if you say so,” she calls. He can’t believe a six-year-old is teasing him, though he supposes he should be used to it.

Eventually Harry pulls out two boxes, one long and clearly housing a Christmas tree, and one huge and marked ‘ _Xmas stuff_ ’ in Louis’s messy scrawl. He drags them into the lounge, and Natasha looks up at him, her expression a strange combination of concerned and disdainful. She reminds Harry of his sister, sometimes, honestly.

“Did you hurt yourself?” she asks.

Harry shakes his head. “Only my pride,” he says cheerfully, and Natasha giggles.

“Good,” she says, and goes back to her homework.

Harry looks at the boxes in front of him. “Tash? Do you want to help me decorate?”

“Oh,” Tash says, looking between him and her homework. “I’m almost finished, can I do this first?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry says, and he watches her curiously as she finishes her maths problems. He doesn’t think he’s ever met a child who’d choose homework over Christmas. “Tashie, we really don’t have to do it now if you’d rather wait for your dad. I mean it.”

Natasha shrugs up at him. “I like Christmas trees,” she says. “I’d like to have ours up for longer.”

“Okay,” Harry says, still a bit uneasy. He opens the box their tree is in, and - wow, Louis was right. Their tree is rather worse for wear. It’s one of those ones with a million detachable branches, and it looks like a good third are missing. Half of what’s left are falling apart.

Natasha comes and stands beside him as he looks at the tree. “Last year Daddy said we’d have to get a new one,” she says. “But we never did.”

Harry frowns at the tree pieces. He doesn’t want to steamroll over Louis, but he also really thinks the Tomlinsons deserve a better tree.

“Maybe we’ll leave the tree for now,” he suggests. “Let’s have a look at your decorations.”

The decorations aren’t as bad - some are quite old, but some look new, and some were made by Natasha last year or in preschool. Those ones are Harry’s favourites.

He finds some glittery candles and puts those out. There are a few little Christmas themed figurines, which Harry puts on the bookshelf. There’s a wreath at the bottom of the box, so Harry hangs it on the front door. He’d like to hang up tinsel around the room, but Louis’s tinsel is in even worse shape than his tree. And all of the strings of fairy lights seem to have a bulb missing.

“Are we putting up the tree?” Natasha asks, and Harry sighs.

“I don’t think so,” Harry says. “I think I’ll talk to your dad about getting a new one.”

Natasha nods, and she helps Harry put the tree box back in the cupboard. They shove the decorations box into a corner of the lounge room to deal with later, because Harry can’t figure out how to Tetris it back into the cupboard, and then she looks at him with her hands on her hips. “What now?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe we could make some Christmas cookies?”

“Like bickies?” Natasha checks, and cheers when Harry confirms. 

She cares more about sweets than Christmas. Harry isn’t even surprised.

❄

After they’ve iced the biscuits, Harry suggests they put on Arthur Christmas. It’s one of his favourite Christmas films, but Natasha says she hasn’t seen it, which is a crying shame.

A few minutes in, as Arthur is writing a letter back to a child assuring them Santa is real, Tash makes a face. 

“That’s a silly thing to say,” she says, and Harry frowns, but he doesn’t question her. Maybe she doesn’t understand what the film is about yet.

But then, after about twenty minutes, when the elves have finished their Christmas deliveries and Santa is addressing them, Natasha tugs on Harry’s sleeve.

“This is a very silly film,” she says. “Everybody knows Santa isn’t real.”

And Harry… Harry’s never been more surprised in his life. It’s one thing for adults to forget about Santa, but he’d never expect it from a child. 

Especially because Santa _is_ real.

He only visits the children who believe, of course, and he feels less real the older you get - Harry’s heard of parents who plain _forget_ about the magic of Santa and don’t pass him on to their kids. He’s always thought that was so sad, that some children miss out just because their parents have lost their childhood magic.

Harry never would have imagined that was the case here - that two of his very favourite people don’t believe in Santa.

“Haven’t you ever gotten a present from Santa?” Harry asks helplessly.

“Yes, once,” Tash says, and Harry’s hopes raise. “At Daddy’s work Christmas party, his boss dressed as Santa and he gave me a present.”

“Hm, that’s not really what I meant,” Harry says. “I meant the real Santa.”

“Daddy told me there is no Santa,” Natasha says confidently. “I asked him two years ago, because everyone was _obsessed_ with Santa and the one at Selfridges was just a man with a fake beard. And Daddy said it’s a lie parents tell kids to make them behave nicely.”

Harry’s mouth drops open. He almost can’t believe Louis would say such a thing. 

“That’s why the Santas in the shops look so fake,” Natasha says.

“Well, they aren’t the real Santa,” Harry says. “They’re just his helpers.”

“ _Hazzy_ ,” Natasha says. “Don’t tell me you believe in Santa?” She sounds so _scandalised_ , Harry can’t help laughing.

“Yeah, love, I do,” he says. “Santa brought me loads of presents as a kid. He brought me things I never asked anyone for, sometimes things my mum couldn’t afford. I know he’s real.”

Natasha frowns. “Really?” she asks. Harry nods. “But why would Daddy say he’s not?”

Harry sighs. He really doesn’t want to fuck with Louis’s parenting. But he doesn’t want Natasha to miss out on Christmas, either. And he won’t lie to her.

“I don’t know, darling,” he says. “Some people lose the magic of Christmas as they get older. Some adults forget about Santa.”

Natasha purses her lips in thought, then her expression clears. “Then we should help him remember!”

Harry smiles. “Maybe we should ask him if we can go and get a real tree, what do you think?”

“Ooh, will it smell nice?” Natasha asks. “I smelled one once and it smelled nice.”

Harry laughs. “It’ll smell the nicest.”

❄

Louis isn’t home until well past Tash’s bedtime. Harry’s been waiting for him in the lounge, organising preschool groups for next year, dreading the conversation he’s about to have. But he doesn’t want Natasha to bombard Louis with questions about Santa before Harry’s had the chance to explain.

“Dinner’s in the oven, if you want it,” Harry says.

“Thanks, love, but I had summit from Greggs,” Louis says. Harry’s entirely unsurprised; Louis would live off Greggs if he could.

“You can take it in for lunch tomorrow if you like, it’s pasta bake,” Harry says.

“Thanks,” Louis says, sitting in the recliner and closing his eyes. He looks knackered. “You’re an angel.”

Ha. “I hope you still think that in a minute, I’ve got something to tell you.”

Louis opens one eye and peeks at him. “Should I be concerned, or is this about Christmas again?”

“Maybe both,” Harry says, chewing on his lip. “Um, well, Tash and I were thinking it would be nice to get a real tree. You were right about your old one, and she said you mentioned buying a new one? But I’d like to get you a real one, if that’s alright.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “I mean, I always thought they were a waste of money, but I’m not going to stop you. They do smell nice.”

“I also - um, I know it’s none of my business,” Harry starts, and Louis waves his hand.

“Stop, H,” Louis says. “You spend basically as much time with my daughter as I do, of course it’s your business. Whatever it is.”

“Well, I don’t want to guilt trip you,” Harry starts. “I know you’re working yourself to death for her. But she misses you, and I just wanted you to know that, as it’s Christmas, you really don’t have to pay me this month. I’d rather you put that money towards something else, if it means you could work a bit less, or take on less cases, or - I don’t know how being a lawyer works. I just think you’d both be happier.”

Louis looks both perplexed and touched by his rambling. “ _Harry_ ,” he says, and there’s exasperation and wonder in his voice. “I can’t do that, love. You’re looking after her at least three days a week, you deserve to be paid.”

“I want it to be my Christmas present to you,” Harry says stubbornly. Then ruins it by adding, _“Please?”_

Louis sighs. “Isn’t this the wrong way ‘round? Aren’t I meant to give you summit, like, a Christmas bonus?”

Harry shakes his head furiously. “God, please don’t. You already give me too much, you know I’d hang out with her for free.”

Louis sighs again. “Jesus. Are you really sure?”

Harry nods, feeling like a bobblehead. “Definitely, one hundred per cent.”

“Fine,” Louis says. He’s looking at Harry like he can’t quite believe he’s real. “I suppose your wages would buy quite a few presents.”

“Exactly,” Harry beams.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” Louis says, shaking his head.

“There’s one more thing,” Harry says, wary of pushing his luck but feeling buoyant after getting his way.

“What is it now?” Louis asks, but he looks fond.

“Well, we were talking about Santa,” Harry starts, and Louis scoffs, which answers the question, really. “You really don’t believe in Santa?”

Louis blinks at him. “Well, no,” he says. “I’m a grown man?”

“So am I,” Harry says. 

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis says, and he sounds completely exasperated this time. “You can’t possibly believe in Santa. He’s a fairytale!”

“No he isn’t,” Harry insists. “He brought me presents nobody knew I wanted, presents my mum couldn’t afford - ”

Louis shakes his head. “She must have had help, maybe from a charity or summit,” he suggests. “Look, Harry. I know Santa isn’t real. I was thinking about selling the lie to Tash, but she never really understood until she was about four. I took her to see the Santa at Selfridges and she saw straight through ‘im. She asked, so I told her the truth.” He shrugs. “I don’t see the problem. At least she knows she’s not being lied to.”

Harry gapes at him. “But Santa’s real!” he sputters. “I worked as a shop elf when I was twenty-two! I know for a fact those shop Santas report to the real one!”

“You sound mad, mate,” Louis laughs. “But I’ll tell you what. You can try to convince Tash he’s real.”

“I can?” Harry asks doubtfully, still prickling at being called crazy for something that literally everyone knows is true.

Except people like Louis. Who don’t believe, for some reason.

“Yeah, I’m curious how it’ll go,” he shrugs. “And it’ll do her good to see another perspective.”

“Okay then,” Harry says. “I’ll try my best.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Louis says. “And who knows, maybe you’ll convince me too.”

He’s joking, obviously, but Harry feels determination flood through him. He’s gonna do it. This year, he’s bringing Santa to the Tomlinsons.

“And you’ll be around more, yeah? You’ll do stuff with us?”

Louis groans. “Oh my God,” he says. “This was all one big elaborate setup to get me to do Christmassy things, wasn’t it?”

“I mean, that’s a pleasant side effect,” Harry says, knowing he’s smirking.

“You’re some kind of evil mastermind,” Louis grumbles.

“S’cuse me, I’m not evil, I’m very good.”

“S’pose you must be, mustn’t you?” says Louis with his own smirk. Oh no. “To have gotten all those presents from Santa.”

God, now he’s been teased by both Tash and Louis in one day. And it’s worse for a million reasons when Louis does it.

“Obviously,” Harry says. “I’ve been an angel all year.”

Louis squints at him. “Did you… just quote Santa Baby?” Harry can’t help smiling, and Louis throws a cushion at him. “Get out of my flat!”

❄

Later, at home, Harry crosses out the title of his list and writes A VERY TOMLINSON CHRISTMAS. It feels more apt, now that Louis’s included. He adds a new dot point about bringing Santa into their lives.

❄❄❄

**Saturday, December 6th**

Harry knocks on 228 bright and early, rugged up in his reindeer-patterned beanie and green peacoat. He’d just been here last night, making glittery reindeer ornaments with Natasha out of pegs, corks, felt, and pipecleaners. She’d been excited for today, and Harry’s excited too, despite how begrudgingly Louis had agreed to it.

“Hazzy!” she cries when she opens the door. “It’s Saturday!”

“Tashie! I know!” Harry says, trying not to laugh. She’s bundled up too and looks ready to go.

“I’m waiting on Daddy to finish his breakie,” she says with an eyeroll. “I finished _forever_ ago.”

“Oi, it was like five minutes, you ratbag!” Louis calls from the kitchen and Harry laughs as he closes the door behind him.

Louis’s sat at the breakfast bar - their flat is too small for a kitchen table - with an empty plate in front of him, finishing the last of his tea.

“You happy, I’m finished,” he grumbles to Tash, before smiling at Harry. “Hey, Haz.”

“Hi,” Harry says. He itches to clean up after Louis, like it’s fucking programmed into his DNA to make life easier for him, but obviously he does nothing and Louis takes his dish to the sink. “You all ready?”

“Yep,” says Louis. “Explain to me again why we’re driving outside the city for a bloody Christmas tree? Surely we can find one around here?”

“It’s only ten minutes,” Harry says, stifling his amusement the way he always does whenever Louis is needlessly worked up. “And it’s my favourite. And far nicer than anything in the city. It’s all about the _experience.”_

They’re going to Ivy Cottage Tree Farm, a cute, family-owned, environmentally-conscious tree farm that Harry had visited just the weekend before. He got his tree there last year as well, and had gone a few times with his family as a kid. He just likes it there. 

Louis huffs, but Harry knows he’s just acting put-upon for the sake of it. “If we’re doing this, I don’t know why we’re not doing it as quickly as possible.”

“You’ll see when we get there,” Harry says. “And it’s not like you have to drive. You just have to enjoy yourself and try not to complain.”

“Good luck on either of those,” Louis says playfully, and Natasha groans.

“Come onnnn, can we go now?”

❄

The drive is as quick as always - actually he feels it was even quicker, with Louis and Natasha happily singing to Fall Out Boy at the top of their lungs - and soon they’re parking, surrounded by trees at Ivy Cottage. It looks even more idyllic than when Harry was here last weekend; Wilmslow’s clearly had a bit of snowfall this week. It was all muddy last weekend, but now, while there are still patches of mud, there’s also patches of snow, and some snow’s sprinkled on the tops of the growing trees in the field. 

“Oh my gosh,” Natasha says from the backseat. “Look at all the trees!”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Alright, Harry. This is nice. Didn’t expect the snow.”

Harry beams, pleased. 

Natasha’s already unbuckling her seatbelt, and Louis helps her out of the car while Harry comes around to their side. She immediately almost slips on the muddy, slushy ground, so Louis holds her hand, and then she reaches out her other hand to Harry. They carefully walk like that towards the check-in, Natasha in the middle, and it’s almost too much. Harry’s heart aches for this to be his normal.

“I told her she didn’t need to wear her snow boots,” Louis says, distracting Harry from his yearning. “She proved me wrong.”

“I did,” Tash pipes up. “And you don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here. Just because I’m little doesn’t mean I can’t hear you.”

Harry bites down his laughter. Louis doesn’t even try. “Sorry, darling,” he says, making a wide-eyed ‘oops’ face at Harry.

“Hazzy, which tree are we gonna get?” Tash asks. “There are _so_ many!”

“I know, but we’re gonna speak to someone who can help us,” Harry says. “They’re gonna show us some trees and we can pick which one we like best. It’s not as overwhelming as it seems.”

He feels he should let her know that, since he’d felt pretty overwhelmed by choice his first few times at a tree farm. 

“Okay,” she says, sounding a bit calmer, but no less excited. “Look at their funny tops! They don’t look like our fake tree at all! And oh!” She breathes in. “It smells so good here!”

“It really does,” Harry says, and Louis murmurs his agreement. He seems distracted. 

Harry doesn’t have time to dwell on that, though, because they’ve reached the check-in, and Charlotte’s working today. Harry smiles. She’d helped him last weekend, and last year.

“Hi Charlotte,” he says.

She gives him a surprised grin. “Hiya Harry! Back so soon?”

“Yep! These are my friends Natasha and Louis, they need a tree too.”

Harry can practically _hear_ Louis thinking ‘need is an overstatement’, but he doesn’t say it, just politely says hello and nudges Tash to do the same.

“Hi there! So what are you looking for today?”

“Well, I was thinking pretty similar to the one I just got,” Harry says. “Their flat’s the same size as mine, so, we’ll need it less than two metres tall. Any type’s probably fine, though we want it pre-cut.”

“Not to worry,” Charlotte says. “I’ll take you over to our smaller trees and you can have a browse.”

She leads them away, and Louis mutters to Harry, “I’ll be honest, I think Christmas tree shopping is a bit outside my field of knowledge,” and Harry laughs because Louis’s a _lawyer._ His whole job flies over Harry’s head.

Once they’re at the area marked with a sign saying ‘1-2M TREES’, Charlotte asks if he’s brought the same car as last weekend - presumably because it has roof racks, so it’s easier to load up the tree. Harry confirms he has, and she says to come and get her when they’ve chosen, and then she’s off.

“There’s still lots to choose from,” Tash says, looking at all the trees laid out in front of them. “And how can I tell what they look like when they’re all laying down?”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t you have a look and when you see any you like, tell me or your dad and we’ll pick it up for you?”

“Mmkay,” she says, eyes still roaming over the trees. “Even if I need you to pick up fifty before I can decide?”

Harry laughs. “Even then.” 

“Speak for yourself,” says Louis, and Harry laughs harder.

They’ve only picked up and inspected a few near-perfect ones before Tash spots one that’s been squashed under another tree. It’s just a bit taller than Harry, so it’s probably just shy of two metres, and its branches are full, but it’s entirely flat on one side.

“Hazzy,” Tash says with a frown. “What happens to the trees no one buys?”

“Well, most trees get bought,” Harry says.

“But what if they don’t?”

“I guess the same thing that happens when - okay, so when Christmas is over, the trees won’t live much longer. So we bring them back here, and they get recycled. So I guess if there are any that aren’t bought, they’d be recycled too.”

“Do you mean chopped up?” Tash asks, and Harry nods. “Without even being decorated? They’re Christmas trees, they’re supposed to be decorated.” She’s still frowning at the half-flat tree.

“Pretty sure they’re just trees, they’re supposed to grow and make carbon dioxide,” Louis says. Harry would elbow him if he weren’t holding up a tree.

“Do you think people might not buy this one?” Tash asks. “Because it’s lopsided?”

“Someone might,” Harry says. “Especially when there are fewer trees left.”

“But they might not,” Tash says. “And then it will get chopped up without getting to be a Christmas tree. Daddy, Hazzy, I think we should get this one. I don’t feel like I can leave it here.”

Harry could cry, honestly. She has such a big heart. He gives Louis an exaggerated pout that he hopes translates into ‘your daughter is the cutest’.

Louis obviously swallows down his Christmas disdain to say sweetly, “That’s very kind of you, darling.”

“You’re such a sweetheart, Tashie,” Harry gushes. “If that’s what you want, I don’t see why not.”

“Yes, it is,” Tash says. “I feel like this tree is ours.”

Harry finds Charlotte and she organises to get the tree wrapped and put on top of the car. In the meantime, Harry takes Natasha and Louis to the Great Little Red Bus Tea Room, a double-decker bus that’s been converted into a cafe, for hot chocolate and mince pies. Natasha loves the bus, as Harry expected she would, and even Louis admits the journey was worth it.

❄

When they get home, after Harry and Louis struggle to bring the tree up to the flat (with Natasha ‘supervising’), after they get the tree in the corner on its stand, Harry pops on his Christmas playlist. He’d filled it with his favourites, and also every pop punk Christmas song he could find, because he knows pop punk is Louis’s weak spot.

The other day Harry had bought tinsel and fairy lights, and he’d brought them over yesterday. He’s just taking them out of their packaging when the My Chemical Romance version of All I Want For Christmas Is You comes on, and Louis’s head jerks up from where he’s looking through their decorations box.

“Oh my god, I haven’t heard this in years,” Louis says. “I feel like I’m fifteen again.”

Harry giggles. “Y’know, I like Mariah, but this is my favourite version of this song.”

“Me too,” says Louis. “Alright. Your playlist can stay.”

Harry laughs again and ignores the lyrics of the song and how much they resonate, focusing instead on Gerard Way’s voice and the happy thrill he has from pleasing Louis.

❄

Once the tree’s decorated, they all flop on the sofa, exhausted. Harry had bought more Christmas lights than the tree needed, so Louis strung them up around the room, deciding he liked that aesthetic. Harry can’t help finding him endearing.

The decorations on the tree are a bit sparse, given that their old tree was much smaller than this one, and Harry has the idea that they could make some more.

“Tashie? Do you feel up to making more ornaments?”

Louis’s phone dings and he fishes it out of his tight jeans and frowns at it.

Natasha nods. “Yes, good idea Hazzy,” she says. “I think the tree needs some more.”

“Me too,” Harry says. “I’ll just pop next door and grab some stuff.”

“Can I come and help?” Tash asks politely. 

Harry smiles at how cute she is and nods, looking at Louis to check. 

“That’s fine,” Louis says, clearly distracted by his phone. “Might have to count me out. Just got an annoying message about a case.”

“S’okay, Daddy,” Tash says graciously. “Today’s been nice enough anyway.”

Louis kisses her head. “Yeah, sweetheart, it has.”

Harry takes Natasha next door and she plays with Olivia while he gathers up glue, glitter, ribbon, his boxcutter, and some cardboard boxes. He sets out an early dinner for Olivia and then Tash helps him carry everything next door.

Harry sets them up at the breakfast bar. His idea is basically to cut the cardboard into shapes and cover them in glitter. Natasha gets to work drawing circles and Christmassy shapes and Harry starts cutting them out.

“Tell me about the Santa you met last year,” he says, hoping it’s not a total nonsequitur to her. He’s just been wondering.

“Well, he had brown eyebrows and his beard was loose,” Natasha says. “His belly was soft like a pillow. And he smelled like when Daddy goes out with Uncle Zayn. And also like cig’ret smoke. I didn’t think Santa should smell like that.”

“No, he wouldn’t. How do you know what cigarettes smell like?” Harry asks.

“Daddy used to smoke,” she informs him, which is news to Harry. “He stopped when I was little ‘cause I wouldn’t kiss him goodnight. ‘Cause he smelled.”

Harry laughs. “Is that so?”

Natasha nods proudly. “He tells everyone I made him quit.”

 _He’s never told me_ , Harry thinks, then ignores himself, smiling instead at how cute Natasha’s pride is.

They’ve cut out all the shapes and are just starting to cover them in PVA glue when Louis comes into the kitchen, having finished his work calls. He groans when he sees the bowls of glitter, but with his help they don’t make too much mess. And Harry thinks it’s worth having glitter stuck to his skin for how much Natasha is enjoying herself.

❄❄❄

**Monday, December 8th**

“Have you seen the Selfridges Santa yet?” his co-worker Sarah asks before preschool, as they’re setting out paints and play-dough. 

She’s not the first person to ask. Harry’s heard parents talk about the new Selfridges Santa for the last week. He’s apparently incredible.

“Not yet, but I’ve heard he’s amazing,” Harry says. 

“He is,” Sarah says. “I honestly think he could be the real deal.”

Harry puts down the last paintbrush and looks at her. “Really?”

She shrugs. “He’s way more realistic than any shop Santa I’ve ever seen.”

Hmm. That gives Harry an idea.

❄

He’d texted Louis to see if it was okay, and Louis had replied ‘hahahaha go for it’, so when he picks up Natasha that afternoon, he tells her they’re only going back to the flat to get Harry’s car. He doesn’t use it often, since the preschool and Natasha’s school are within walking distance, but the shops are too far.

“Oh, where’re we going?” she asks as they walk.

Harry’s decided it’s better as a surprise, so he says, “It’s a surprise.”

She makes a face at that. “Well, is it very far?”

“No,” Harry says.

“Is it very fun?”

“Erm, it’s pretty fun, I think,” Harry says.

“Is it - ”

“Hey,” says Harry with a giggle. “I don’t remember agreeing to Twenty Questions.”

Natasha frowns. “What about ten questions?”

Harry laughs again. “No! Why don’t you tell me about your day, what else happened?”

Natasha frowns at him some more, but then she says, “Fine. But I just remembered another question I have for you. Is that okay?”

“As long as it’s not about the surprise, yes.”

“It’s not,” she says. “I was wondering. What’s a elfonashelf?”

Harry frowns. Honestly, he might not know about them himself if it weren’t for preschool. Santa developed them after Harry’s childhood, probably to help him keep track of the growing population. “Well, it’s a newer tradition, I think. If you write a letter to Santa and ask nicely, he’ll send you an elf. The elf sits on your shelf, and you’re not allowed to touch them, because that might take away their magic.”

“The elves are magic?” Natasha asks. She looked awed at first, but she’s beginning to seem skeptical.

“Oh yes,” says Harry. “Every night, they fly home to Santa to tell him how you’ve behaved. And then they come back, but they might land in a new place. People find their elves all over the house.”

Natasha nods. “Jackson said his elfonashelf was in the dirty laundry today. I didn’t understand, but now it makes sense.” 

Harry hums while she pauses thoughtfully.

“Hazzy,” she says. “Do you suppose I’d be able to have my own elfonashelf? Even if I don’t believe in Santa?”

Harry stops. He doesn’t know if Louis would like that, or if it’s even possible. “Why don’t we write to Santa and ask?” He’ll have to tell Louis too. Hopefully he won’t mind.

❄

“Seriously, Hazzy, where are we going?” Tash asks again as he buckles her in. Louis had a spare car seat, passed down from his mum, and he’d given it to Harry a few months ago. Harry’s grateful for it every time he wants to take Tash somewhere.

“It’s a surprise,” Harry says again.

Tash pouts as Harry gets into his own seat, but she cheers up once he turns on her Spotify playlist. It’s mostly Britney Spears and Fleetwood Mac; she used to listen to Harry’s playlists and they were inexplicably her favourites. 

“Yay!” she cries as Baby One More Time begins to play for the thousandth time, and before Harry starts driving, he remembers he’d added something to the playlist last night.

“Hey Tash, did you know Britney’s got a Christmas song?”

Natasha’s eyes go wide. “Does she really?”

“Yep,” Harry says. “Do you want to hear it?”

“Yes please,” says Tash politely, bouncing a bit in her seat.

Harry scrolls to the end and presses on My Only Wish (This Year). He spends the drive to Selfridges watching Natasha in the rearview mirror as she bobs her head. There’s a measuring expression on her face, as if she’s mentally evaluating the song.

When it finishes, she says, “Can you play it again please Hazzy? I want to learn the words.”

Harry happily replays the song. If Britney’s what it takes to get her into the Christmas spirit, he’s good with that.

❄

“Oh,” Natasha says as Harry parks the car. “We’re just going to Selfridges?” She sounds disappointed.

Harry laughs. “Cheer up, this’ll be fun,” he says as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car.

“I don’t see what’s so fun about shopping,” Tash grumbles when he opens her door.

Harry laughs again as he unbuckles her. “You will when you’re older.”

“Ugh!!” Natasha cries, throwing up her little gloved hands and almost hitting Harry in the face. “Grown-ups always say that! It’s so boring!”

She reminds him so much of Louis. Harry chuckles as he helps her out of the car. “C’mon,” he says, taking her hand. “You won’t be bored, I promise.”

❄

He wants to take back that promise when they actually get to Santa’s Grotto and Harry sees how long the line is. They’ve come straight from school! How can there be so many people already?!

Natasha frowns at him as they join the end of the line. “This was all about meeting _Santa_?” she asks, sounding exasperated. “I already saw the Santa here, I told you, Hazzy. He’s terrible! What’s the _point_ of this?”

She’s raising her voice, and the mum in front of them gives Harry a dirty look. He apologises to her sheepishly and then crouches down to Natasha’s level.

“This isn’t the same Santa,” he tells her. “And I’ve heard…” he beckons her closer and then whispers, “I’ve heard he might actually be the real thing.”

Natasha inhales, a very slight soft gasp, then composes herself. “Really?” she asks. She sounds hopeful, but skeptical, which Harry’s learning is her whole approach to Christmas.

“Well, I thought we could suss him out ourselves and see,” Harry says. “Maybe you could think of some questions to ask him.”

Natasha nods seriously and Harry stands back up. As he does, he notices an elf walking past and does a double-take.

“Liam?” Harry says, and the elf whirls around.

“Harry!”

“Liam!”

Natasha’s hand is back in Harry’s and she’s tugging at him. “Who’s that?” 

“This is Liam,” Harry tells her. “We used to work together. Liam, this is my friend Natasha.”

Tash sticks out her free hand for him to shake, and Liam looks tickled pink as he does so. “Very nice to meet you, Natasha.”

“You too, Mr Liam,” Natasha says primly, then she asks Harry, “You worked with him? Were you a Selfridges elf?”

“Well…” Harry hedges, wondering why exactly he hasn’t told her this yet. “Actually, yes. I was.”

He can see the cogs turning in her brain as she puts it together. “Was your Santa as bad as the one I saw?”

Harry laughs. “No, love, he was good,” he says. “And he really did report back to the real Santa. I saw him do it.”

Natasha frowns, clearly trying to reconcile this information with what Louis’s told her. 

“Our old Santa was good,” Liam says. “But the Santa here is amazing! Just wait ’til you meet him.”

Natasha looks dubious, but before she can say anything else to annoy the mum next to them, Harry asks Liam what he’s been wondering.

“Speaking of,” Harry says. “What’re you doing in Manchester? Last I saw you were in London.”

Liam smiles and leans closer so the parents in line won’t hear him. “Actually, I met someone,” he says. “He lives here, I moved to be closer to him.”

Harry’s heart melts. “Oh, Liam,” he says. “That’s lovely. It going well then?”

Liam beams. “Really well,” he says, then he looks down at Natasha. “Plus, I mean, I go where Santa needs me.”

Natasha frowns at him, so Harry stage-whispers, “She’s an unbeliever.”

“ _Oh_ ,” says Liam. He crouches down to her level. “Tell you what, if you don’t think our Santa is the real thing, I’ll eat my hat.” He shakes his head so that the bell on his hat jingles. “Bell included.”

Natasha breaks into giggles. “Okay,” she says. “I look forward to that, Mr Liam.”

Liam gives her a crinkly-eyed grin, then he stands and says he should get back to Santa. Once he goes, Harry picks up Natasha and holds her on his hip so that she can bombard him with questions about working for Santa. It feels a bit like she’s trying to catch him in a lie, but he’s happy to answer her questions.

The closer they get to Santa, the more her questions peter off. Once she can see him, she watches him closely. They see him speak Italian to an Italian family, Swahili to a Kenyan girl, and sign language to a deaf boy, and then there’s only the mum in front of them with her three kids to go.

“Does he know _every_ language?” Natasha asks Harry in a hushed voice.

“I think so,” Harry says. “Santa travels everywhere, remember? He needs to know how to communicate with everyone.”

She screws up her face, looking suspicious.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Harry suggests.

“I will,” she says, turning her gaze back onto Santa.

He really is very realistic. Liam, Sarah, and the preschool parents had been right. Harry’s never seen a shop Santa look so much like the real one, or at least how he imagines the real one to look.

Finally, the mum and her kids say their goodbyes to Santa, and it’s Natasha’s turn. Harry puts her down, but she grabs his hand as if she’s nervous, so he walks up to Santa with her.

“Hi, Santa. This is Natasha,” Harry says.

“Hello there, Natasha,” Santa says with a welcoming smile. He pats the cushion beside him. “Do you want to hop up here?”

Tash looks questioningly at Harry, who nods. “I’ll just be off to the side, I won’t go far,” he promises, and Natasha climbs up onto the seat.

A Selfridges elf - not Liam, he’s over at a booth collecting payments - takes their photo. Natasha smiles for it, but it’s nowhere near as excited a smile as other kids they’ve seen.

“Now, Natasha,” Santa says after the photo’s been taken. “What would you like me to bring you for Christmas?”

“Nothing, thank you,” Natasha says politely.

Santa’s surprised. “Nothing?!”

“My Daddy gets me my presents,” she says.

“Oh,” says Santa, glancing at Harry. “I was wondering why… You don’t believe, do you?”

Natasha shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re the real Santa, and my Daddy says there is no real Santa.”

Santa hums, looking disappointed. “I must say I’m sad to hear that. Can I do anything to change your mind?”

“Don’t be sad, please,” Natasha says earnestly. She’s so kind and polite it makes Harry’s heart hurt. “I suppose you could answer some questions for me.”

“Of course!” Santa says.

“How many languages do you speak?” she asks.

Santa looks surprised, then thoughtful. “Oh, I suppose… Around six thousand and five hundred.”

Natasha blinks at him, astonished. “Six… thousand…” she repeats softly. “Are you joking? Are there even that many languages?”

Santa chuckles. “Oh, yes. Live as long as I have and you’ll learn just about every language.”

Natasha opens and closes her mouth a few times. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” Santa says, appearing to have recovered from the shock of an unbeliever. “It’s good to question things. Don’t believe everything you’re told.”

“Okay…” says Natasha slowly. “I have another question.”

“Go on.”

“Why don’t you visit the children who don’t believe? Is it because they’re naughty?”

“Oh, goodness no,” Santa says. “It’s simply that Christmas magic is a two-way street, you see. If you don’t believe in it, I can’t see you, and so I don’t know how you’ve behaved or even which gifts to bring you. Does that make sense?”

“Well, I suppose,” Natasha says. “If Christmas magic is real, that is.”

“Oh, I promise it is,” says Santa. Harry wonders if he starts every sentence with an ‘oh’. “You can ask your daddy.”

He gestures to Harry, and Natasha says, “That’s not my daddy. That’s my friend Hazzy.” Harry isn’t quite sure what to make of her tone. He wonders if it’s disappointment.

“Oh my mistake! I do apologise,” Santa says, then he looks at Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he says, and Harry’s startled at being called his actual name. Tash had just said Hazzy, after all.

“I have another question,” Tash says. “If I don’t believe, can I still have a elfonashelf? Or will the magic not work?”

“Ah,” Santa says, tapping her nose. “That’s the beauty of my elf on a shelf design! To be activated, they only need to meet someone who believes - it doesn’t need to be you. And that’s actually a wonderful solution - if you don’t believe in me, I can’t see you, but the elf can watch you for me.”

“My Hazzy believes,” Tash says. “I wanted to get one and see for myself.”

“A very good idea,” Santa says. “And you never know. My elves have a marvelous way of changing minds.”

Natasha hums. “I suppose we’ll see,” she says. “But I’m excited to have an elf.”

“Good,” Santa says happily. “Merry Christmas, Natasha. I hope I’ll be stopping by your house this year after all.”

She screws up her face, clearly unsure what to say to that, and then she just says. “Happy Christmas. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, little one,” Santa says. Harry steps forward to help Natasha down and Santa smiles at him sadly. “She’s a good child.”

“The best,” Harry agrees. “Happy Christmas, Santa.”

“You as well, Harry,” Santa says.

Harry takes Natasha over to Liam’s station to pay for their photo. Liam asks Natasha if he has to eat his hat, and she giggles and says she’s not sure. She supposes not, just in case, but Harry can tell she’s still very doubtful. She’s just being nice.

The photo is pretty adorable. Harry thinks Louis will like it despite his feelings about Santa. Once he’s paid, he asks Liam if his number’s still the same. Liam confirms it is with a grin and says they’ll have to catch up soon.

Harry holds Natasha’s hand on their way out of the shop and asks her what she thought.

“I don’t know,” she says. “He was quite realistic, wasn’t he? Much better than last year.”

“I thought so too.”

“But I don’t think that means he’s really Santa, or that Santa’s real,” she says. Harry looks down to see her frowning. “He’s just perfect for that job.”

Harry tries not to sigh. It’s okay. It’s still early in the month. He’ll convince her eventually.

❄

When they get home, Natasha asks Harry to help her write a letter to the North Pole for an Elf on a Shelf. Specifically, she says, “Can you help me order my elfonashelf now?”

Harry’s tickled by her saying ‘order’ and by the way she keeps running the phrase together. He’s very happy to oblige. 

❄❄❄

**Wednesday, December 10th**

The Elf arrives much quicker than Harry expected. He’s minding Tash, they’re halfway through dinner, when Louis comes home unexpectedly early.

“Miss Tomlinson, you’ve a package,” he announces, and Harry notices he’s carrying a garish red and green box. Then Harry notices the mildly perplexed look on his face.

Natasha looks up from her dinner, humming with excitement, but she’s so well-behaved that she just nods when Louis says she can have it when she’s finished her tea.

“Yours is still on the stove,” Harry says. 

Louis hums. “Thanks, love.” He’s distracted, staring at the box.

“You’re home early,” Harry says.

“Hm?” Louis looks up. “Well, I promised. I’m trying.”

Harry’s heart squeezes. God, he’s so endeared by this man. “We appreciate it, don’t we Tash?”

“Yesh,” Tash says through her last mouthful of butter chicken. She swallows. “Love when you’re home. Can I see my package now, please?”

“Alright,” Louis says, passing it to her. 

The wrapping is shiny, and it’s not postmarked, but there’s a small card on top of the box that says ‘Natasha Tomlinson’ in glittery joined-up handwriting. Tash quickly opens the box, with Harry’s help, and there’s a porcelain elf with ruddy cheeks and brown hair smiling back up at them.

Tash squeals, and Harry has to stop her from touching him. “Remember, if you touch him, he won’t be able to fly back to Santa.”

Tash looks at him skeptically, but she retreats her fingers. “There’s a card, Hazzy, can you get it?”

Harry carefully extracts the card and reads aloud, “‘Dear Natasha, I know you’re not sure if you believe, but I promise to keep an eye on you anyway. My name is Niall. Please don’t touch me, and ask a grown up to put me in a safe place. Lots of love.’”

Natasha looks at him with wide eyes. “How did he know I don’t believe?”

Harry smiles. “Magic, love,” he says. “I bet Santa told him.”

Tash frowns. “Selfridges Santa?”

“I told you he’d report to the real Santa, didn’t I?”

“You also said you thought he was the real Santa.”

By now Louis’s eyebrows are approaching his hairline. “Harry. Can you put that thing somewhere, and can I have a word?”

Harry’s stomach drops. He closes the box and appropriately puts Niall on a shelf, then follows Louis into the kitchen as Tash unpauses A Charlie Brown Christmas.

“What… the fuck…” Louis says. He doesn’t sound angry, thank God, mostly bewildered. “Harry. What the fuck was that thing?”

“An Elf on a Shelf,” Harry answers helplessly. “I told you on Monday, she wanted to ask for one.”

“You sent off a letter on Monday? And that thing showed up two days later?”

“I guess, yeah. Faster than I expected.”

Louis stares at him. “From the North frickin’ Pole? In less than two days? Without an address? Harry, come on,” he rolls his eyes. “You obviously bought it for her.”

Harry boggles.

“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, I was startled to see a box like that addressed to me daughter, I won’t lie. I had to check what it was before I brought it in, in case it was something weird. But you bought her a creepy elf thing, whatever. You can tell me the truth.”

Harry’s actually speechless for a second. “I - I don’t - what?” He’s so confused. “I didn’t. I didn’t buy it.”

“Well then how did it get here?” Louis’s squinting at Harry, and he obviously doesn’t believe him, but his tone is kind, warm. He’s not interrogating Harry - Christ, it feels like he’s indulging him.

“Magic, I guess,” Harry says with a shrug, knowing it’s futile as he says it. “If Niall can fly to the North Pole and back in a night, I don’t see why he shouldn’t be able to arrive here in two days.”

Louis’s shaking his head. “You won’t give up on this, will you?”

Harry would argue with him, but there’s really no point, and besides, Louis sounds _fond_. Harry really likes it. If Louis has to think he’s a weird Christmas nutter in order to use that tone of voice, Harry doesn’t care.

So he just says, “Nope,” all cheerily, and smiles.

Louis smiles back, like he can’t help it, then rolls his eyes. “God help me, now I’ve gotta have that creepy bastard staring at me in me own flat.”

“Shhh, he might hear you,” Harry says, amused.

Louis huffs and gets his dinner off the stove.

❄❄❄

**Friday, December 12th**

Louis, 9:34am   
I THINK MY FLAT IS HAUNTED

Harry, 9:39am  
Haha is that so??? 

Louis, 9:45am  
That bloody elf ! Yesterday morning he was sat under the tree when I know we left him on the shelf, I was sure Natasha moved him but she swears she didn’t. Then this morning he was ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE, which she obviously CAN’T REACH, HOW DID HE GET THERE HARRY, WHY DID YOU BRING THIS POSSESSED DEMON ELF INTO MY HOME

Harry, 9:47am  
Hahahaha oh Louis! It’s Christmas magic, I told you! The elf isn’t possessed

Louis, 9:49am  
That’s what Natasha said but I BEG TO FUCKING DIFFER HARRY

Harry, 9:51am  
So you won’t believe in christmas magic but you believe in a spirit possessing a toy?

Louis, 9:53am  
Yeh obviously ! That shit’s been documented innit, or maybe it’s a poltergeist 

Harry, 9:54am  
Honestly Lou just give into christmas, it’s less scary than your ideas

Louis, 9:57am  
Once again I BEG TO FUCKING DIFFER, the idea that that little bastard is actually alive is terrifying

Harry, 9:59am  
Hahaha well whatever works for you. gtg morning tea is ending x

Louis, 10:02am  
ok but don’t think I’ve stopped blaming you for giving us a cursed object. Oh and btw I’m going to be a bit late home tonight, wrapping up a case, maybe around 9 x

Harry, 11:17am  
Hahaha I didn’t give him to you but ok. And, sad but no worries, see you then x

❄

Natasha spends the afternoon in awe about her elf moving. She says she’d think Louis did it, except for how horrified he’d been that morning. She giggles about his reaction, not seeming annoyed that he’d thought she was responsible. 

Harry isn’t sure if she’s closer to believing in Santa, but he definitely thinks the elf is helping.

That night, he and Tash watch Babar’s Christmas, a childhood favourite of Harry’s, while they eat tea. Natasha loves it, bemused at the low-key toys the kids ask for, enthralled the entire time Babar’s at the North Pole, and unable to stop giggling about the flamingo scene. It’s only about twenty minutes long, and when it’s over there’s enough time for another before Natasha has to get to bed.

“What’s your absolute favourite Christmas film, Hazzy?”

Harry taps his chin thoughtfully. It shouldn’t be an easy choice, because he loves so many Christmas films, but at the end of the day, he’s always only had one answer to that question. “It’s called Love Actually.”

Natasha frowns adorably. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

“We could watch it sometime. I don’t know if you’d like it, but it’s mostly love stories.”

“That sounds nice. Can we watch it now?”

“Yes, alright.”

Luckily, since he’d already anticipated wanting to show it to her, a heavily edited version is sitting in his folder of Christmas movies. He’d edited out all nudity and mentions of sex, and muted the swearing, and then he’d run the idea by Louis, who’d laughed and said it was fine (and that he’d gone to too much trouble; “I’m sure she hears worse swearing from me.”)

So they watch Love Actually, and Harry finds himself teary in all the same places he usually is, while Natasha watches him curiously. She likes the lobsters, and Sam’s story, and she giggles when Harry rages against Alan Rickman’s character.

“Well, what did you think?” Harry asks her when the credits play.

“I liked it,” she decides. “It didn’t even seem like a Christmas film sometimes. I think you could watch that any time of year.”

Harry laughs. “Trust me, I do.” He doesn’t elaborate; she’s probably too young to understand the concept of comfort movies. “Which story was your favourite?”

Natasha thinks about it. Harry loves that about her, how careful she is. “I liked the boy a lot,” she says. “The bits about his mum were sad, but I liked him.” She thinks a bit more, then she giggles. “The old man was funny. And the prime minister was romantic. But I think I liked the boy best.”

Harry nods. “Good choice.”

“What about you?”

Harry’s always liked Natalie, always related to her for a reason he wasn’t quite sure of, and he was powerless to resist Hugh Grant. But these days, he relates a lot more to the unrequited love story between Rick Grimes and Keira Knightley. He loves all of the stories, really, except Emma Thompson’s. She deserves so much better. “All of them?”

Natasha shoves him gently. “That’s a cop out! You have to choose!”

“The prime minister’s then,” Harry says with a put-upon sigh. “You’re right, it was romantic.”

Natasha stares at him thoughtfully. “Do you like love, Hazzy?”

Harry’s a bit taken aback. “Yes, of course,” he says. “I like love stories. They make me feel good.”

She smiles. “That’s nice.” Her face drops into studying him seriously once more. “Have you ever been in love, Hazzy?”

“Oh,” Harry says. “Um. I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

“Well, sometimes it’s hard to know.”

Natasha frowns. “It doesn’t seem like it’s hard.” She gestures to the TV.

Harry matches her frown, trying to think of the best way to explain without outright saying ‘the closest thing I’ve come to love is whatever I feel for your dad, and it’s hard to know if it’s real love when the other person doesn’t love you back’. Then he’s got it. “Well, it’s like - you know the part in the film, before the end, where the lady didn’t know the prime minister loved her? Or the writer and the maid, how they loved each other but they didn’t know? Sometimes it’s like that. So far, I’ve never gotten past that stage - having intense feelings for someone but not knowing how they feel. I’ve never gotten to the end bit. So I don’t know if I’ve been in love - I think I’d know for sure, if I was loved back.”

“That’s silly,” Natasha says, poking him. He has to smile at how matter-of-fact she is.

“Oh really?” he says, poking her tummy back. “Why’s that?”

“It’s too complicated,” she complains.

“Love’s usually complicated,” Harry says. “Excuse me, did we just watch the same film?” He pokes her again.

Natasha fights a smile and shakes her head. “No! You sound sillier than anyone in the film! If you have intense feelings, then you’re in love. It doesn’t matter how they feel.”

Harry’s stunned silent for a moment. She’s essentially saying that unrequited love is real love. He’s always puzzled over it, because he feels like it’s substandard to requited love. But she’s just knocked his argument over. “You’re probably right,” he says. “Okay. Then I have been in love.”

“Yay,” she says quietly, almost smugly, like she’s pleased at getting him to agree. Then she looks at him with wide eyes. “And is it total agony?”

“What?” Harry asks.

“Like the boy said. Sam. The total agony of being in love.”

God, she’s got a good memory. “It can be,” he says. 

“Do I know who they are?” she asks, and then she turns serious. “Do you have a girlfriend, Hazzy?”

Harry almost chokes on his tongue. “No, I don’t!” he cries. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like girls, so I wouldn’t have a girlfriend, I’d have a boyfriend.” She inexplicably cheers up. “And I just said, I haven’t made it to my happily ever after yet! Would be pretty mean to say that if I had a girlfriend!”

“Or a boyfriend,” Tash says.

“Right,” Harry says. “I don’t have one of those, either.”

“Just checking,” Tash says. She looks at him curiously again. “Do you want a boyfriend? Do you want to get married?”

“Jeez, Tash, you just leapt forward about a hundred steps,” he says, because again, he can’t say, ‘I wanna marry your dad.’ She looks unimpressed. “I mean, yeah. I’d love to be married. But I don’t see that happening any time soon.”

Natasha nods, then she snuggles into his side. “Good,” she mumbles into his cardigan. “I don’t want you to run off and marry someone else and forget about us.”

Harry’s heart hurts. “I could never forget about you.”

Tash peeks up at him. “What about my daddy? Could you forget about him?”

“No,” Harry says before he can think about it. It’s worth it for her smile. “I’d rather hang out with you guys than get married.”

It’s a big statement; he doesn’t know if she realises how big. But he means it.

Which would be terrifying if he hadn’t conceded that truth way back when he started looking after her.

“Good,” she says again. “I don’ wan’ either of you t’ marry someone else.”

It’s so slurred Harry can hardly decipher it, and by the time he does, she’s fast asleep, her fingers clutching his cardigan and her head on his chest. Harry rubs his hand over her back, then scrolls through the Netflix app for something else to watch, trying to ignore his lingering thoughts of Louis and marriage.

Total agony might be right.

❄

When Louis gets home at half nine, Harry’s put Tash to bed and is sat on the sofa, scrolling through Facebook.

“Stay there,” Louis says as he drops his bag and goes into the kitchen. “I wanna ask you something. Want a cuppa?”

“No thanks, ‘ve got one,” Harry says, gesturing at his mug on the table even though Louis can’t see him. He listens to the sound of the kettle and tries to focus on his phone again, but he can’t now. His brain is too preoccupied wondering if this discussion is going to be good or bad.

Louis comes back in with a steaming cup, carefully sitting beside Harry. “Bloody elf’s still on the fridge,” he mutters. “That thing really disturbs the fuck outta me.”

Harry tries not to laugh but doesn’t really succeed. “Have you accepted that he’s magic yet?”

Louis scoffs. “Of course not. I decided today it’s definitely Natasha. If she gets on a chair she could reach the top of the fridge.”

Harry shakes his head while Louis blows cutely on his tea. “It’s not Tash, Lou. It’s Christmas ma-”

“Don’t,” Louis cuts him off with narrowed eyes. “Stop. I’m too tired to debate you. But I’m right.”

Harry chuckles. He didn’t notice right away because Louis’s always beautiful to him, but now that he mentions it, he does look tired. Harry gives him a break. “Okay.”

“Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” Louis says.

Harry watches nervously as Louis takes a sip of his tea. It’s a _talk_ now?

“Me family’s coming over tomorrow,” Louis says. “Mum, stepdad, all the siblings.”

“Oh,” Harry says, confused. “Well, that’s nice?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. He seems apprehensive all of a sudden, almost nervous, which is rather disturbing for Harry who mostly only sees Louis as confident and sure. “It is. And,” he fidgets. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to join, for dinner? Mum’s making a roast.”

To say Harry’s gobsmacked is an understatement. “Really? You want me there?”

Louis purses his lips oddly, but nods. “Yeah. Feel like it’d be good to have you there. And Tash wanted me to ask you, and so did Mum. She’s been bugging me about seeing you again.”

Harry doesn’t know whether to be pleased, or to take that to mean Louis doesn’t _really_ want him there, it’s just that Tash and his mum do.

But then, if Louis didn’t care, why would he be so nervous to ask?

It doesn’t even matter, not really, because Harry’s got the same answer regardless.

“Yes, of course I will,” Harry says. “If you’re sure you want me, I’d love to.”

Louis visibly relaxes, which is - something. Maybe something. “I do - we do want you,” he smiles. “I promise. Think it’d feel weird if you weren’t there, to be honest, you’re basically family now aren’t you.”

Harry smiles, but his stomach squirms. Sure, he wants to be part of Louis’s family, but there’s a distinction between that and Louis considering him family. Like the difference between a spouse and a sibling. Fuck.

As always, though, Harry pushes down that feeling and focuses on feeling grateful to be this close to Louis at all.

❄❄❄

**Saturday, December 13th**

Louis had said his family wouldn’t be getting in until about one, but Harry wasn’t able to sleep, so he got up around six and used his nervous energy to make a gingerbread house. He hadn’t planned on it, had thought he’d just make biscuits, but then he had the idea and couldn’t help himself. He’d forgotten how much work they take, though, and his take an extra amount because they have to be perfect and he’s all about the details. It’s almost half eleven by the time he’s finished, so he has time to shower and agonise over the perfect outfit.

Louis had said it wasn’t anything formal, but Harry still felt the need to impress his family. Even though he’s met them before. This feels like a Christmas dinner kind of situation, so he picks out cream-coloured flared trousers and a glittery red top. He knows the heating in Louis’s flat is good (better than his own, which he’s somewhat irked about; he’s right next door for goodness sake) so he figures he’ll just wear his green coat over, knowing he’ll take it off within the first thirty minutes. 

He’s just doing his hair, making sure it’s curling nicely around his shoulders, when his phone rings. The display lights up with a photo of his mum.

“Hi Mum,” Harry answers, putting her on speaker so he can continue fussing with his hair.

“Hi, love,” she says. “What are you up to today?”

He blushes inexplicably, glad she hadn’t decided to Facetime. “Erm, you know Natasha and Louis next door?”

His mum laughs. “You talk about them all the time, darling.”

Right. He watches himself squirm in the bathroom mirror. “Well, Louis’s family is over today, so I’m having tea with them.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice,” she says. This is the part where she’d normally ask him if he was _sure_ nothing was going on with Louis, so when she doesn’t, he frowns.

“Is everything okay, Mum?”

“Oh, yes, everyone’s good!” she says quickly, and then she sighs. “I’m sorry, love, I just don’t know how to – I feel awful for doing this.”

That doesn’t quite alleviate his concern. “Doing what?”

“Well, Gemma’s not going to make it home for Christmas,” she says, and Harry deflates.

It could be worse, obviously, but the news still sucks. Harry loves Christmas with his mum, sister, and stepdad, loves all their little traditions. But Gemma’s studying her PhD in the US and Harry supposes it must be keeping her.

“Oh,” he says. “Well, that’s not good.”

“And, I – I’m so sorry, darling, but Robin and I won tickets for a holiday cruise to Aruba.”

Harry’s confused. “Why are you sorry? That’s amazing.”

“It’s over Christmas,” she says gently. “If we go, we’ll miss it.”

“Oh,” Harry says again. He blinks at his reflection, trying to process that his family Christmas has clearly been cancelled. They’ve got to take the holiday. His mum has had a stressful year, she deserves it.

“I’m sorry, love,” she says for the millionth time. “I wanted to see if you’d be alright before we planned anything. We don’t have to go – ”

“Yes you do, Mum,” Harry insists. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m an adult, I can spend one Christmas alone.”

She tuts. “I don’t want you to be alone, though. Why don’t you see what your father – ”

“Nope,” Harry interrupts again. His relationship with his dad is okay, but often strained, and he’d rather not be the outsider among his dad’s Christmas with his new family. “No. I’ll just stay here with Liv and watch films and eat my weight in gingerbread. I’ll be okay.”

He’s trying to convince her as much as himself.

“If you say so, dear,” she says, and he can hear the frown in her voice. “I really do feel so dreadful – ”

“Don’t,” Harry says. “Please. You both deserve a holiday. I can handle it, I promise.”

“We’ll figure out a way to video chat on the day,” she says, determined. “Maybe we can try that Zoom thing, get Gemma on too.”

Harry chuckles despite himself. “Yeah, okay. That’d be nice.”

“Maybe we could play Scrabble over the phone! And we could each get Christmas crackers!” she says. “Oh, I have to write all this down. Are you very sure it’s alright?”

Harry’s definitely disappointed, but he is sure. “Yes, positive. Please. Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s all I do, love,” she says with a laugh. “Maybe you should see if you can spend the day with any friends. What about Louis?”

Harry laughs. “We’re not real friends, Mum, he pays me. I can’t impose on his Christmas.”

She tsks, and he runs through another reassurance before he gets her off the phone. Then he deflates entirely. Christmas alone. There’s no way he’s asking to spend it with anyone else, least of all Louis, so that’s it. At least he has Olivia.

❄

Harry thought he might be a bit overdressed, but turns out he had nothing to worry about. Louis’s siblings are dressed even fancier than he is, Louis’s mum looks stunning, Natasha’s wearing a Christmas dress with a big red bow in her hair (and looking possibly the dressiest he’s ever seen her; she tends to stick to jeans and jumpers), and Louis… Louis is wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans with his hair in a swirly quiff, and Harry catches himself staring far too many times.

To explain the outfits, Jay says they’ll be taking a family photo so she can send it out on Christmas cards.

Harry’s only met Louis’s mum and his two oldest sisters before – Lottie’s the one he sees somewhat regularly, since she lives in Manchester too and looks after Tash on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He’s never met Louis’s stepdad, or the two sets of twins, but they very quickly embrace him. He doesn’t feel like the weird interloper he thought he would.

Natasha’s in her element surrounded by her aunts and uncle, and so is Louis, but in a more subtle way. He just seems so relaxed, like the chaos of his family calms him. He’s almost a different person.

During dinner, when they’re all seated at the big folding table Louis’s family had brought (they’d had to push the sofa against the wall to make room), Daisy asks what he’s doing for Christmas.

“Oh,” he says, feeling awkward. He attempts a laugh to cover it up. “I actually just found out my family will be away, so. I’ll be alone in my flat with my cat.” He laughs awkwardly again.

Daisy’s looking at him in shock. “Oh, but that’s awful!” she says. “Mum, did you hear that? Harry’s going to spend Christmas alone!”

The table goes eerily quiet, and Harry flushes and focuses on cutting up his potatoes.

“Oh, love,” Jay says. “Are you really?”

“Um, yeah,” Harry says, looking up at her. “Mum just told me this morning, she and my stepdad won a cruise, and my sister’s in America, so.” He shrugs. “It’s alright.”

He must not be very convincing, because she’s frowning at him. Nobody else is saying a word. 

“Well,” Jay says, glancing at Louis and then back to Harry. “No pressure, but you’re welcome to spend it with us if you’d like. Of course you’d have to brave the trip to Donny with Louis.”

Now Harry’s the one shocked. He didn’t expect her to offer that at all. He doesn’t even know what to say. He supposes, since he doesn’t expect Louis would be thrilled, he should politely decline. But he doesn’t _want_ to.

“Oh, could you Hazzy?” Tash pipes up. “Please please please?”

“Yes, please do!” Daisy says, and Louis’s other siblings chime in.

Harry looks at Louis. “Um, Lou?”

Louis smiles at him. “You’re more than welcome, love, if you want to,” he says genuinely. “Don’t feel as if you have to say yes, but you also don’t have to be alone.”

“I’d have Olivia,” Harry says distantly. “My cat.” He clarifies.

“Bring her too,” Jay suggests.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, okay. That would be lovely, actually. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, darling, you’re always welcome,” Jay smiles, and Natasha and the younger twins cheer.

Harry catches Louis smiling too and he ducks his head to hide his own grin, going back to his food.

He’s overwhelmed and so pleased to be invited to spend Christmas with Louis’s family, but it isn’t long before the pining sets in. Because the downside of instantly being treated like one of the family is that he isn’t. He has to keep reminding himself that they’re just very kind people who understand he has some importance in the Tomlinson’s lives, particularly Natasha’s, but he’s not there as Louis’s partner and he never will be. It’s just him struggling with that distinction for the zillionth time.

❄

He ends up in the kitchen helping Jay wash up the dishes, because she insisted on doing it and then so did he, and when Louis tried to stop them, Harry got Natasha and Jay got the girls to distract him.

“Phoebe told me Tash was asking her questions about Santa earlier,” Jay says. “It seems she’s more curious than she used to be. I have to assume that’s your doing?”

She says it kindly, so Harry doesn’t feel he’s mis-stepped, but it fuels his curiosity from the day's earlier mentions of Santa. It had been an odd conversation; the younger twins are eight years old, only about two years older than Tash, and they’re very excited about Christmas and Santa. They obviously still believe, and it was jarring to see them as opposed to Natasha’s skepticism.

“Yeah, well, I – to say I was shocked when she said she didn’t believe is a bit of an understatement,” he says, and Jay chuckles.

“And I’ll bet you were confused today, with the rest of my kids believing.”

“Very much so,” Harry says with a wry smile. “I guess I’m confused as to how that could be the case. I’m not asking you to explain! I don’t want to, like, invade Louis’s privacy – ”

Her laugh cuts him off. “Love, you’re not,” she says. “He actually told me, a few days ago – he let me know you might have questions, and thought I might explain it better.”

“Oh,” Harry says, somewhat surprised Louis thought ahead because of him. “Well, okay, I guess – if you want to explain how that could happen? But you don’t have to – ”

Jay waves him off. “It was Christmas Eve when his first stepdad left,” she says. “As in, we tucked the kids in together the night before, and Christmas Eve morning he was gone.”

“But that’s Louis’s birthday too,” Harry says, hurt on his behalf. “How could he do that?”

Jay shakes her head. “I’ve never forgiven him for it,” she says. “Right after the twins were born too. And I’m sure it’s the worst birthday slash Christmas Louis’s ever had. He stopped believing that Christmas, his twelfth birthday. In the years after, his sisters would still get presents from Santa, because they still believed, and I’d try to make him see, show him that I couldn’t have afforded them. But he refused to believe me.”

“All I wanted that Christmas was for Mark to come back,” Louis says softly from the doorway, clearly escaped from the kids. Harry and Jay start, and whirl around to face him. Harry feels horrible, and despite what Jay had said, he expects Louis to feel furious, or at least betrayed, that they’d been talking about him, but Louis just shrugs. “When he didn’t, I knew Santa wasn’t real.”

“We weren’t talking about you,” Harry blurts out ridiculously.

Louis gives him a tired smile. “Yes, you were, love,” he says. “It’s alright - I knew once you found out my family believed, you’d ask questions. And Mum’s probably better at answering than I am.”

“I haven’t told Harry the full story, my darling,” Jay says. “If you want to tell him about Bryan?”

The name rings a bell, stirs up confusing feelings of jealousy. Oh, right. Bryan is Natasha’s other father, technically.

Harry knows some of the story. Or, well, he’s pieced it together from a handful of conversations. Louis had been twenty-four when Tash was born, and he’d gotten pregnant after a one night stand. They’d tried to make a relationship work, him and Natasha’s other dad, but they didn’t click.

“Natasha’s other dad,” he says, and Louis nods.

“Sperm donor is probably more accurate, but yeah,” he says. “We were trying to make it work, since neither of us wanted to be single parents. We fought all the time, and he wasn’t really who I’d have chosen if I could, y’know, it wasn’t ideal, but I thought it was okay. I thought we were coping. But I think I’d just ignored all the red flags.” He sighs. “I was almost eight months pregnant. And he said he was done. It wasn’t even a fight, he’d been planning it. He’d packed his shit and he said he’d sign over his rights, he wanted nothing to do with us.”

“Fuck,” Harry whispers. He can’t imagine being abandoned at eight months pregnant, even if he wasn’t in love with his partner. It must have been devastating. He’s so upset at the thought, but at the same time he feels weirdly, extraordinarily proud of the way Louis’s pulled himself together and raised Natasha on his own.

“It wasn’t my birthday that time,” Louis continues. “But it was December thirteenth, so. It was still a bad Christmas.” He sucks in a breath. “And we’d spoken about the Santa thing, for the future, because he believed. So I agreed to go along with it for Tash. After he left I s’pose I just didn’t feel like there was any point.”

Wait a minute. December thirteenth…

“That’s today,” Harry says. He looks at Jay, who nods.

“It’s why I’m here,” Jay says. “We try to make the thirteenth of December a positive day. I’m glad it’s a Saturday this year.”

“Try to distract me, she means,” Louis says, but there’s a small smile on his face. “I’m fine. It doesn’t even bother me anymore.”

Jay looks doubtful, but she hums and says, “Of course, darling. I like the tradition anyway. It’s nice to have a pre-Christmas do. And lovely to have you with us this year, Harry!”

Harry smiles, pleased on reflex despite still feeling upset on Louis’s behalf. “It’s lovely to be here.”

He can’t get it out of his mind, though. The way Louis’s been abandoned at Christmas, the way it might’ve affected him more because it’s his birthday too. He wonders if trauma stops people from believing in Christmas magic.

❄❄❄

**Sunday, December 14th**

Harry hasn’t set an alarm, thinking he’d allow himself a Sunday sleep in, so he’s disoriented when he wakes up to his phone ringing.

“Harry,” Liam says when Harry picks up. He sounds frantic. “Something’s happened, I - I don’t know if you can help, but I didn’t know who else to ask - ”

“Are you alright?” Harry interrupts, concerned. “What’s happened?”

“Yes, I’m fine, it’s not me - it’s Santa.”

“Santa?”

“Our shop Santa,” Liam clarifies. “Long story short, Selfridges’s biggest competitor, Syco Shoppe, the rivalry’s really ramped up this year - and the owner of Syco, he hates our Santa, because everyone’s coming over here to see him and not theirs.”

“Right,” Harry says, calming down slightly. This doesn’t sound like the emergency he’d anticipated.

“He sent some of his - his _goons_ out, I’m sure he did, I recognised one of them from Syco - anyway they confronted Santa, in the shop, in front of the children, and Santa told them off, and now - now they’re trying to have him sectioned. They say he’s delusional, we’re trying to find someone with any legal expertise to represent him and contest it - oh, but that’s not the point. He’s not allowed to work at Selfridges until it’s all sorted, and they found out he’s been sleeping in his Grotto here, and now I need to find him a place to stay. I’d take him in but my boyfriend and I have such a small flat, we don’t have any room, and I’m not asking you to do it yourself, but I wondered if you knew anyone who could? Or if you had any ideas? I’m at a loss.”

Harry blinks, trying to take the convoluted story in.

“Harry?”

“Right, sorry. Yeah. Um, I’m gonna need more details I think, to fully understand, but - he can stay with me, if he likes? I have a spare room.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure?”

Harry doesn’t even pause. Apparently someone’s trying to paint this man as dangerous, but Harry’s met him, and he hadn’t seen anything but a kindly old man who could very well be the actual real Santa.

Besides, Harry’s a big believer in kindness towards strangers, and now especially. ’Tis the season, after all.

“Yes, it’s fine. Bring him over whenever you can. Oh, and I might have a lawyer for him as well.”

“Really?”

Harry chuckles at how pleased Liam sounds. “I’ll have to talk to him first, but I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re like a little miracle. You know, I rang you on instinct, because you always used to be such a problem solver, but I didn’t expect this!”

Harry can’t wipe the grin off his face. “Happy to help. I mean it. I’ll text you my address.”

❄

Liam ends up texting him the full story, and Harry immediately gets dressed and heads next door. Louis’s family should have left by now, and hopefully Louis is home.

“Haz,” Louis says with a ridiculously attractive smile, dressed down with rumpled hair, leaning against his door frame. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

“I wanted to ask you for a favour,” Harry says.

“Anything,” Louis says warmly, and Harry wants to kiss him. It’s unfair. He refocuses.

“They’re trying to section the Selfridges Santa, and he needs a lawyer to represent him at his hearing for approval.”

Louis’s smile drops and he blinks owlishly at Harry. “I’m sorry, what?”

Harry sighs. “It’s a long story. May I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Natasha’s out with Lottie, she insisted. D’you want a cuppa?”

“Yes please,” Harry says, following Louis into the kitchen and sitting at the breakfast bar.

“So,” Louis says as he reaches up to get mugs out. Harry watches as his t-shirt rides up and a golden-skinned hip pokes out. He’s wearing a t-shirt and joggers, and as Harry usually sees him suited up for work, it makes him lose his tongue. “What on earth do you have to do with the Selfridges Santa?”

“Ummm,” Harry says, trying to recover. Louis’s not watching him, preoccupied with filling the kettle. “Well. So. My friend Liam, he’s a Selfridges elf, we used to work together? I ran into him the other day when I took Tash to see Santa?”

Louis nods as he pops in teabags.

“Well, he just rang. It’s a long story,” Harry warns.

“So you’ve said,” Louis says with a smile. “I’ve got time.”

“Okay,” Harry says. “The Selfridges Santa, he’s so good, people queue up all day to meet him. Selfridges has been doing really well, and their biggest competitor, um, Syco Shoppe? They’re pissed off.”

“Oh, jesus,” Louis groans. “I know them. I mean, professionally. I’ve represented some of their employees before. That Simon Cowell is genuinely fucking evil.”

The kettle whistles and Louis picks it up as Harry frowns. He’s glad Louis’s familiar, but ‘genuine fucking evil’ really doesn’t sound like it bodes well for Santa.

“I got that impression,” he says. “Since Liam said, they sent over - well, he keeps calling them ‘goons’.”

“Apt description, I’d say,” Louis says darkly, dropping a splash of milk into their mugs.

“Well, Syco sent them over to Selfridges, while Santa was working - and they had a psych with them apparently, it’s his word they’re using - they confronted Santa, said he was crazy, implied some fucking awful things about why he’d want to do his job - ”

Louis makes a face as he passes Harry his tea. Harry thanks him.

“You’re welcome,” Louis says. “So did he beat the shit out of them? I would’ve.”

Harry’s a little surprised with Louis’s response. “He got really upset,” he says, then sighs. “He bopped one of them on the head with a candy cane.”

“A regular candy cane or something larger?” Louis asks, clearly in business mode. It’s hot. Harry tries to focus.

“It was plastic, Liam says it was about a foot long. Can’t have hurt much, but apparently that’s reason enough to section him involuntarily. Along with the ‘delusions’,” Harry says with finger quotes.

“Delusions?” Louis repeats, and Harry sighs again. This is the part he’s been dreading.

“I told you, he’s a very good Santa, yeah?” he says and Louis nods. “He’s, like, hyperrealistic. Liam says he knows things he couldn’t possibly know. And he talks about - to anyone who’ll listen, he talks as if he’s the real Santa.”

Louis blinks, and then raises his gaze to the ceiling and lets out a deep sigh through his nose. When he looks back at Harry, it’s as if he’s trying to hold in a barrage of thoughts. Finally he says, “Harry, there is no real Santa.”

Harry’s torn. He doesn’t want to fight with Louis, but it’s sort of paramount to Santa’s case that Louis can at least make an argument for him not being delusional. This is going to be the biggest hurdle to get over - if Louis even agrees to help at all.

“And even if, for argument’s sake, there was,” Louis says. “Why on earth would he be working at bloody Selfridges?”

Harry shrugs, because he doesn’t know either. “You’d have to ask him that. But, okay, whether he’s actually Santa or not, I’ve met him, and he’s not dangerous, Lou. He shouldn’t be sectioned.”

“Okay,” Louis says, clearly with great difficulty. “I’ll ignore the ‘actual Santa’ bit for the time being. What’s happening with the sectioning process?”

“Well, it’s going to a tribunal hearing, because the psychologist referring him isn’t _his_ psychologist, and Liam’s positive he works for Syco, which in itself shouldn’t be legit, should it?”

Louis frowns. “I’d think not.”

“And Liam wanted Selfridges to speak up on his behalf, but as he’d ‘behaved inappropriately around the customers’, their words, the best they could do is give him the job back if it’s all worked out.”

Louis snorts. “Helpful.”

“So Liam and the other elves are his only representatives, and they’re not lawyers, obviously. Liam needed to find someone with legal expertise and I said I’d run it by you. I mean, you don’t have to help!” Harry rushes to add. “The last thing I want to do is add to your plate. But I thought you might have advice…”

He honestly hates to ask; Louis had announced to everyone yesterday that he’d wrapped up his last case for the year and he’d just be doing admin stuff at the office until his Christmas break. Harry wants Louis to have more time for Natasha, not another case to eat up all his time.

But Louis softens. “C’mon, Harry,” he says. “Of course I’ll help. Even if I think parts of this are absurd. It does seem unfair, and I definitely hate Syco, so.”

Harry relaxes, and he feels hopelessly more in love with Louis than ever before. “Really?”

“Yes,” Louis says with a smile. “I’ll have to meet him, obviously, but yeah. I’ll do what I can.”

“How about tonight?” Harry suggests. “He’s coming to mine today.”

Louis looks confused. “Yours? Why?”

“Erm,” says Harry, sheepish. “Liam also said he needs someplace to stay. Apparently he’s been sleeping in his grotto at Selfridges?”

“Oh my God,” Louis says. “And why couldn’t this Liam take him in?”

“His flat’s too small, I’ve got a spare room, so,” Harry shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t,” Louis says. “Why can’t he go back to the bloody North Pole, if he’s _Santa_?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe he isn’t the real Santa after all. Or maybe he’s stuck here for some reason.” He shrugs again. “I haven’t spoken to him yet.”

“Jesus,” Louis says, wiping a hand down his face. “Yeah, bring him over tonight. I’ve gotta see for meself you haven’t invited a bloody murderer into your flat.”

❄

Liam brings Santa over later that afternoon. Harry’s tidied up his spare room - it’s mostly Olivia’s room now, to be fair, so he’s relocated her cat tree and toys and litter tray to the lounge. Putting up with the scent of the litter in a common area for an unidentifiable period of time is probably going to be difficult - but Harry’s got a defuser, so he’s already popped in a new fragrance and is hoping that’s enough to cover the smell.

He hopes Santa doesn’t have a problem with cats; he’d forgotten to mention it to Liam.

Turns out there’s nothing to worry about there. As soon as they arrive, before Santa’s even greeted Harry, Olivia’s at his feet saying hello. He kneels down and rubs her head, muttering nonsense to her before looking up at Harry. “Who’s this, then?”

“Olivia,” Harry says. “She’s very friendly. Sorry I forgot to mention her, I hope you’re okay with cats?”

“I love all living creatures, especially friendly ones,” Santa says with a jolly smile, looking back at Olivia. “And you’re lovely, aren’t you little one? Aren’t you?”

Liam moves around him, carrying two bags. Harry directs him to the spare room, and Santa finally straightens up and chuckles.

“Where are my manners,” he says, seeming fondly exasperated at his own self. “Hello again Harry. Thank you so much for taking me in.”

“Of course,” Harry says with a smile. “I always believe in helping others. And it’s Christmas, after all.”

Santa’s eyes twinkle. “You always have been very good, haven’t you? Do you remember the year you took your little guitar into town and played on the street to raise money to buy a birthday present for your friend?”

Harry blinks at him. When he was eight, Robbie down the street had a birthday coming up, and his family hadn’t the money to throw him a party or buy him any presents, let alone the Nintendo game he’d wanted. Harry had raised enough money to buy it for him with a considerable amount left over, which he also gave to Robbie, and then he’d convinced his mum to throw a small party at their house.

Since then, he’d taken to going into the village square and busking whenever someone he knew needed money. It was probably, as far as he can remember, the beginning of his philanthropic efforts.

Now, he’d expect the real Santa to know about that, of course. A Selfridges Santa wouldn’t, though, so with that one sentence all of Harry’s suspicions are confirmed: this is the real Santa. And he doesn’t quite know how to react.

“I do remember,” he says slowly. “Wow. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and an honour to have you here.”

Santa laughs. “Thank you, little one,” he says. “It was an honour to watch you grow, and a pleasure to see you’re still as kind and generous.”

Harry flushes, pleased with the compliment, and smiles. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do while you’re here, okay? Would you like some tea?”

Santa looks thoughtful. “Tea would be fine, but I’d love a hot chocolate, if you’ve any.”

“Of course!” Harry says, leading him into the kitchen with Olivia twining between their feet.

❄

Introducing Santa to Louis goes better than Harry expected. Louis is polite and kind, not that Harry thought he wouldn’t be, but he thought it might be obvious that Louis thinks the man’s full of it. It isn’t. He treats Santa respectfully, the way he would any elderly gentleman, Harry imagines.

Right up until he says, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can continue calling you Santa - do you have any other name you go by?”

“Oh, yes, several,” Santa says jovially, not offended in the slightest. “But you can call me Kris, if you prefer.”

“I do. Kris.” Louis says with a decisive nod. Harry wonders if he’s made the Kris Kringle connection, and manages not to giggle.

The door to the flat opens, bringing in unintelligible voices, and Harry assumes Louis’s sister is here dropping Natasha off.

Sure enough, in comes Natasha, saying, “Daddy, I - ” then stopping dead in the doorway, staring at the three of them, her eyes wide.

“Tash?” Lottie says, coming up behind her, and frowns when she sees the stranger sat at the breakfast bar.

“Hello again, Natasha,” Santa says, smiling warmly. “And - oh my - is that Charlotte Tomlinson?! My how you’ve grown!”

Lottie looks deeply perturbed. “Louis?” she asks, her tone of voice clearly saying ‘what the fuck’ even to Harry.

“Erm, Lots, Tash, this is Kris,” Louis says, looking out of his element. “He’s going to be staying with Harry for a bit.”

Natasha seems even more stunned, which Harry is taking as a good sign, in regards to her overall belief in Santa. Lottie looks confused.

“How does he know who I am?” she asks. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

Santa chuckles, and Louis looks torn. Then he jumps up from his stool. “I’ll explain later,” he says, starting to corral Lottie out of the room.

“Goodbye, Charlotte!” Santa calls, and she shoots back one last confused look. Harry giggles out his own goodbye.

Natasha, meanwhile, still hasn’t said a word, but she approaches warily. Harry picks her up and sits her on the counter.

“Hello,” Santa says kindly.

“Hi,” says Tash. “Why are you staying with Hazzy?”

Santa smiles, and shoots a fond look at Harry, as if to say ‘Hazzy, isn’t that cute’. At least that’s what Harry thinks he means. He thinks it’s cute, himself, so he supposes everyone else must too.

“Well, I’ve gotten into a spot of trouble,” Santa says. “I’m in a bit of a bind. So Harry, very kindly, offered to take me in. And your dad is going to help me too.”

Tash frowns thoughtfully. “D’you need a lawyer?”

“Yes,” Santa says. “Maybe your dad can explain it best. But I promise, I won’t take up too much of his time.”

Tash looks surprised, as if that’s exactly what she was thinking and she didn’t expect him to know. “He’s not supposed to take on any more cases this year.”

“I know,” says Santa remorsefully. “And I am very sorry about that. But, if it helps, it’s not a real case. Just a bit of bother, he’s just helping.”

“Oh,” says Natasha. “So you’re not being sued?”

Santa chuckles, shaking his head.

“C’mon, who would sue Santa?” Harry asks, trying to lighten the mood, but Natasha still frowns.

“Plenty of people,” she says. “Daddy’s said people can sue each other over the silliest things.”

“That is true,” Santa says. “But people are less inclined to in Britain, I believe. And I’ve thankfully managed to escape it this time.”

“Hm. Okay.” Tash accepts this. “Does this mean you’re going to hang out with us after school?”

Santa chuckles again. “Sometimes I might, if I’m welcome. But it is the busy season for me, you know.”

Tash looks skeptical. “I suppose,” she says. “Well, you _are_ welcome, any time. Right, Hazzy?”

Harry smiles fondly. She really is such a lovely little thing. “Yes, of course.”

❄❄❄

**Monday, December 15th**

“We watched the new Grinch film today,” Tash says on their way home from school. Her hand’s in Harry’s and she swings it back and forth. 

Harry’s unsurprised she watched a whole film at school; they’re nearing end of term. He’s not getting anything done with his preschoolers either, they’re all excitable balls of Christmas energy, and they’ve got less of an idea of it than kids Natasha’s age.

“What did you think?”

“Well, I liked it well enough,” she says. “It was pretty good. I prefer the other one, though, and I said so, and Georgia said I was stupid.”

Harry, affronted, fights the immature urge to say ‘Georgia’s stupid’. “I’m sorry she said that, love,” he says instead. “Your opinion is never stupid.”

Natasha nods. “Thank you,” she says. “Anyway, Miss Edwards heard, so Georgia didn’t get any stickers today.”

“Well, good,” says Harry. “I agree with you, by the way. The one we watched is better.” He doesn’t think anything could beat Jim Carrey’s Grinch.

“It’s so much funnier!” Natasha says enthusiastically. “And I like that Cindy Lou better. But the new one gave me an idea.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I can’t tell you,” she says cryptically. “But yes, I like the new one, but I loved the one you showed me.”

Harry smiles. “Me too.”

Natasha hums happily, still swinging their hands. “Hazzy, will we see Mr Kris this afternoon?”

“Maybe,” Harry says, barely fazed by the topic switch. He’s used to it; in fact, he feels kids are more likely to communicate the way he does, with different thoughts flying around at once. “I don’t know. But we’ll see if he’s in my flat when we pop in to feed Liv.”

“Okay,” she says brightly. “Do you think Mr Kris would answer some questions for me?”

“As long as they’re polite questions, I don’t see why not,” Harry says, super endeared by her calling him ‘Mr Kris’. Louis must have told her that’s his name.

Tash scoffs. “Of course they are, I’m always polite.” She’s got him there. “Do you think Mr Kris knows Niall?”

She continues to ask him questions about Kris for the rest of their walk, even though Harry can’t really answer most of them. When they get back to the flat, Kris is nowhere to be found, but Natasha’s disappointment doesn’t last long when she’s got Olivia to play with.

Harry decides they can stay in his flat for a while, in case Kris comes back. He pops on Barbie In The Nutcracker and he, Tash, and Olivia curl up on his sofa. Natasha’s enthralled by the dancing as soon as it begins, and Harry feels his body relax immediately. When he was seven or eight, this was his absolute favourite film; Gemma had gotten it for Christmas and she’d been disdainful, proclaiming herself too old for Barbie, but Harry had loved it, had watched it so often the VCR tape had almost worn out. He’d told his mum he wanted to be a ballerina, specifically a sugar plum princess, and she’d taken him to dancing lessons until they decided he was too uncoordinated.

He still loves the film. There’s something so comforting about it, about things he loved as a child. It makes him feel good, and doubly so because Natasha’s enjoying it too.

❄❄❄

 **Wednesday, December 17** **th**

“I’m not sure about Santa anymore, Hazzy,” Natasha says as Harry helps her step over an icy puddle.

Harry makes sure she’s steady before he responds, but he’s taken a bit by surprise. He doesn’t know why, since he’s been expecting her opinion to change. “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Just, everything,” Natasha says, waving her hands. “I know I haven’t had a chance to ask Mr Kris my questions yet, but it’s not just about him. I think,” she lowers her voice to a hush. “I think Niall’s magic.”

Harry smiles. “I think so too.”

“And how can Niall be magic if Santa’s not real?” she asks. “Besides, you believe in Santa, and even though you can be very silly, I do believe you’re very smart.”

“Aw, thank you, angel,” Harry says, weirdly touched.

“But my Daddy is smart too,” she says with a weary sigh. “I don’t know what to think! I spoke to Daddy about it the other night, and he suggested I ask Mr Kris for something that Daddy doesn’t know I want.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “That’s a clever idea. Your dad really is smart, isn’t he?”

“Yes, of course,” she says.

“Do you know what you’re going to ask for?”

“Yes,” she says immediately. “Do you think I should ask Mr Kris? Do you think he’s the real Santa?”

“I do,” Harry says. “He knows things about me I’m sure only the real Santa would know. And if he’s not, he can tell the real Santa. I told you, shop Santas report back to the real thing.”

“But he’s not a shop Santa right now,” Tash says.

“Hm, no, he’s not,” Harry muses. “How about, you ask him, very politely, if he’s still able to send a message to the real Santa?”

Natasha nods seriously. “I will try not to mention that he lost his job,” she says. “I’ll be careful.”

“That would be very kind of you,” Harry says, smiling. “You’re definitely on the Nice list.”

Tash smiles back at him. “Oh, I hope he’s home when we feed Livvy!”

❄

Turns out, Kris _is_ in Harry’s flat, sat in Harry’s armchair with a crossword puzzle and Olivia purring in his lap. He’s happy to see them and for them to join him (“I wouldn’t dream of kicking you out of your own flat, young Harry!” he says with a jovial laugh), so Harry turns on his Christmas playlist and gets out the stack of Christmas themed colouring books he’d bought for Tash. He and Tash spread out his huge collection of pencils and crayons on the coffee table, and they each choose a book.

Harry loves art projects, especially colouring in. He has a heap of ‘adult’ colouring books, has it down as one of his favourite ways to switch his mind off, between ‘meditation’ and ‘candle-lit bubble baths’. He’s content to colour in a drawing of Rudolph, as Natasha, ever so politely, peppers Santa with questions.

Harry leaves them to their conversation while he makes dinner and feeds Olivia. They watch Elf while they eat, and it’s a whole ‘nother experience to watch it with Kris, who’s never seen it, and enjoys it immensely, with lots of happy commentary. He’s especially pleased with how much Buddy loves Santa. Meanwhile Harry’s entertained by the way he knows each actor on sight and spouts off random anecdotes about their childhoods.

When Natasha asks if the North Pole is really like that, he chuckles and says, “My, no. My elves are happier. Think of the happiest you’ve ever been – everyone who lives in the North Pole feels like that all the time.”

“Even at Christmas?” Natasha asks, wide-eyed. “All the films say that everyone’s so busy at Christmas, it’s – what’s the word Hazzy?”

“Stressful?” Harry suggests.

“Yes,” she confirms. “Stressful.”

“Well, we definitely are busy,” Santa says. “But no, in fact – we’re even happier at Christmas. It’s what we were all made for, you see. It’s our purpose, our calling, and besides, we prepare so much throughout the year that we’re not as stressed as you’d think. You’ve heard of Christmas spirit, surely?”

Natasha nods.

“That comes from the North Pole. From us. Christmas spirit is at the core of our very beings, so at Christmas time we simply shine.”

“That’s lovely,” Tash says. “It must be nice to live somewhere where everyone is always happy.”

“It is,” Santa says. “But it can also cause us to disconnect from what it’s like here, for everyone else. We forget that everyone isn’t always happy and content. It’s our jobs to try to spread happiness for at least one day, preferably for a month, and so we must try to remember how it is humans live. That’s why, every few years, I like to spend December amongst the people of the world.”

Well. That explains what he’s doing here, at any rate.

❄

When the film’s over, Harry tells Natasha they should be getting next door and ready for bed. Tash asks shyly if Kris will tuck her in and maybe tell her a story, and Kris is happy to oblige, so the three of them head into Louis’s flat. It’s past eight and Louis isn’t home yet; Kris supposes he’s working on his case and apologises to Natasha.

“It’s alright,” she says, much more understanding than Harry thinks she’d have been a few weeks ago. “I don’t mind as much tonight. Hazzy, may I have a bath?”

It’s not too late, and she’s due one, so he agrees and runs it for her, then leaves her to it.

“She’s a good kid,” Kris says as Harry makes them both cups of tea. 

He tries not to feel too pleased and proud; she’s a credit to Louis, after all, not him. But he can’t help it; he _is_ proud of her.

“She’s the best,” Harry says.

Kris hums, and then he says, “Oh! Hello Niall!”

Harry looks over to see Niall propped up against the microwave. “You do know him, then!” he says, only mildly surprised that Kris recognises him by name. God, he’s definitely Santa. “We wondered if you would.”

“Of course,” Kris says. “I do hope you’re enjoying your December, Niall. I thought you’d be the perfect elf for Natasha.”

Niall doesn’t reply, obviously, doesn’t move, his inanimate eyes still staring right ahead.

“Very good,” Kris chuckles. “I’m certainly enjoying getting to know the Tomlinsons as well.” Then he winks at Harry.

Harry’s called out of that strange experience by Natasha, who’s finished with her bath. She’s dressed when he gets to the bathroom, and he drains the bath while she brushes her teeth. He tucks her into bed and kisses her head goodnight, then he calls Kris in and leaves them to it, thinking Natasha might want privacy to ask him for her Christmas wish.

He goes into the kitchen to find his and Kris’s mugs already washed and put away. Harry peers at Niall curiously. 

“Did you actually speak with him earlier, or was he just talking at you?” Harry asks.

Niall doesn’t respond.

Harry shakes his head at himself and goes into the lounge, flopping on the sofa and pulling out his phone. He realises it’s half eight and Louis still isn’t home, and he’s slightly concerned, so he shoots off a quick text asking how long he’ll be.

After a few minutes of scrolling through Facebook, he gets a ‘shit! Fell asleep at my desk! Coming home now’ from Louis and shakes his head fondly. Kris’s hearing is on Monday; he really hopes Louis isn’t working himself ragged for it.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Kris comes out and sits with Harry. “She’s asleep,” he says. 

Harry nods. “Thanks. I suppose she asked you for her super secret Christmas wish?”

Kris chuckles. “She did, and don’t you try to get it out of me.”

Harry pretends he’s affronted. “I wouldn’t dare!” he says. Then, “Is it doable, though?”

Kris sighs, suddenly looking somewhat morose. “I’m not sure,” he says. “Like I told her, I can’t interfere with free will.”

Harry blinks. That wasn’t really the response he was expecting. Now he’s more curious than before over what Natasha could have possibly asked for.

“But I’m hopeful,” Kris continues. “I think I’ll only have to give things a nudge.”

“Right,” says Harry, unsure what that means. “Well. I hope you can. I’d really love for her to believe.”

“I know, young Harry,” Kris says with a smile. “But don’t you worry. I’ve got a feeling she’ll end up believing regardless.”

“What makes you say that?”

Kris shrugs. “I have a feeling this year will be better than ever before. Everything will work out.”

Harry wishes he could have that much faith, but for now, he soaks up a bit of Kris’s.

❄❄❄

**Friday, December 19th**

Harry’s excited for their film pick tonight. He’d held off on it, because it’s one of his very favourites, but today was the last day of school, and so to celebrate he’s decided it’s time. Time for A Muppets Christmas Carol.

Natasha’s excited as well when he tells her, and curious, because she’s got a mild interest in The Muppets. Harry had shown her the recent films earlier in the year, and he’s gotten her into Sesame Street; they’ve watched a lot on Youtube. She’d only seen a bit of Sesame Street before Harry, but she knows enough now to connect The Muppets with Sesame Street, and she’s excited. Harry heats up the lasagne he’d made yesterday and they’re just sitting down on the sofa when the door opens and in comes Louis.

Harry knows now to expect him earlier, but it’s still a surprise. He keeps forgetting, and it was his own bloody idea for Louis to work less. But the surprise is pleasant, so he doesn’t mind.

“Daddy,” Tash says happily. “We’re watching Muppet Christmas!”

“A Muppets Christmas Carol,” Harry clarifies, and Louis matches their smiles.

“Am I just in time?” he asks.

“Yes!” Tash squeals. “Get your dinner and come here!”

“Lasagne, in the oven,” Harry clarifies again. 

Louis grins. “Thanks, love.” He heads into the kitchen while Harry tries to calm his pleased buzz at the pet name. Louis basically communicates in pet names; it shouldn’t make him feel this way every time.

He opens Disney+ and finds the film, then they wait a few minutes for Louis to join. Harry encourages Tash to eat, not wanting her dinner to go cold.

Natasha inhales her dinner during the first few minutes of the film, and by the time Gonzo and Rizzo have followed Scrooge to work, she’s staring rapt at the telly.

“Kermit!” she cries when he appears. “Hazzy! Daddy! It’s Kermit!”

Louis laughs. “You know Kermit’s a Muppet,” he says. “Surely you expected him?”

“Expecting something doesn’t make it any less exciting,” she says, matter of fact. Harry shares a wry grin with Louis over her head. Sometimes she’s so profound it’s startling, but always cute.

Despite her wisdom, she shows she’s just a kid when Scrooge says, “Bah! Humbug,” and she asks what humbug means.

“He’s basically just saying Christmas sucks,” says Louis.

Tash rolls her eyes. “I could tell that, Daddy,” she says, her tone dripping with condescension. Harry tries not to laugh. “But what does it _mean?”_

“I read recently that it meant something was silly,” Harry says. “Like, something not to be trusted. He’s saying people who believe in Christmas are ridiculous and delusional.”

“Oh,” Natasha says, then laughs. “He’s like Daddy!”

“Oi!” Louis says, poking her. “I wouldn’t call anyone delusional!”

“You said Mr Kris had a delusion,” Natasha says with a frown.

Louis splutters. “That’s a different thing. A serious thing. I wouldn’t throw that word around willy-nilly.”

Natasha hums, already having lost interest and focusing on the film again. Harry, meanwhile, sort of wishes they weren’t watching the film at all; he’s itching to talk to Louis about Santa’s defense. He literally has to remind himself he’s been waiting to watch this all month.

Scrooge says, “It’s a poor excuse to pick a man’s pocket every December twenty-fifth. But as I seem to be the only one who knows that - ” and Tash bursts into giggles.

“That _is_ you, Daddy!”

“I’m not Scrooge!” Louis cries, offended, and attacks her with pokes to the stomach.

He stops before she gets annoyed, and she explains earnestly, “I don’t mean you would want people to work on Christmas. But you _have_ said that you seem to be the only one who knows there’s no Santa!”

Louis shares a sheepish look with Harry. “Well, I don’t think Santa is a humbug, though.”

“Don’t you?” Harry questions, because this is news to him. He did think Louis probably thought he himself was a bit delusional.

Louis frowns, shaking his head. “I mean, I’ve got an apparently magical elf flying about my flat and I’m defending a bloke convinced he’s Santa. I don’t know what I think.”

Harry… wasn’t expecting that. 

“Can you be quiet please,” Natasha says primly, as if she wasn’t the one who started the discussion in the first place. “I’m trying to watch Kermit.”

❄

After the film, Louis puts Natasha to bed, and Harry waits around to ask how the case is going. He makes himself and Louis a cuppa while he waits.

“Thanks, love,” Louis says when he joins Harry in the kitchen.

“You’re welcome,” Harry smiles. “I wanted to ask how you’re going with Kris?”

Louis beams, which isn’t exactly the response Harry expected. “Great! I’ve got a plan now, I think.”

“Oh?” Harry asks, leaning forward against the counter.

Louis chuckles and pats the stool beside him. “Sit down, love, you’ll hurt your back.”

Harry tries not to visibly flush as he scrambles around the counter and takes a seat. He wishes he wasn’t so fucking affected by the slightest bit of care from Louis.

“So I won’t lie, I’ve been pretty stumped all week,” Louis says. “Didn’t know what direction to take, especially when…”

“When you don’t believe,” Harry says tactfully.

“Right,” says Louis with a sheepish smile. “That. But I had a eureka moment today. So my plan is twofold - to show his true personality, and to show he could be Santa. I want to take Kris out tomorrow, to some sort of Christmas event, maybe Winter Funland, and record him as much as possible. I thought being able to show video evidence of how he interacts with people might help his case.”

Harry loves that idea. “I love that idea,” he says.

Louis smiles warmly. “If you want to come, you’re welcome to? I was going to bring Tash, and I’ve invited Zayn and he’s bringing his new boyfriend, so, the more the merrier.”

Harry’s got no plans; in fact, he’d been thinking of asking Louis and Tash if they wanted to go somewhere Christmassy with him. So this is perfect. 

“I’d love that,” he says. “And I think Winter Funland would be perfect.”

“Sick,” Louis grins. “And so then I thought, why not put some footage on social media, try to start a little campaign, see if people believe he’s genuine? And then I remembered something Kris told me, about how he does this every few years - picks a random place to visit for December. Now, I’m not saying I believe, mind you, but I thought, what would it hurt, to put up a little video of him and ask if anyone out there recognises him. I can’t prove he’s Santa, but if enough people can say that they’ve met him elsewhere - especially if they can send in photos - it could only help his case, surely.”

Holy fuck. “That’s brilliant, Louis,” Harry breathes. He’s amazed, and so hopeful now. “That’s got to work! If people’ve met him in Japan, or Australia, or something - and maybe you’ll even get people saying they met him decades ago!”

“That’s the hope, yeah,” Louis says with a pleased little smile. “I filmed a short video of Kris today, and wrote up a post on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter - basically just saying, Save Santa, have you met this Santa, please send your experiences, that sort of thing. I don’t know how to make things go viral,” he says with a little giggle. “But I think Lottie does, she’s got this weird Instagram following, and I’ve already got a bunch of friends sharing it, so I’m hoping some stories will come through tonight.”

“Show me? Please?” Harry requests, and Louis gets out his phone.

The posts are good, cover just about everything details wise, and the video of Kris is short and sweet. There’s already a heap of shares on Facebook and the Instagram post is gaining traction, but the tweet is way behind, with only a few retweets, since Louis apparently barely uses his account. Harry’s mind is whirring, full of ideas of ways to share the message.

“Can I help?” he asks, before he shares any suggestions.

“Of course you can,” Louis says with a laugh. “Like you even have to ask.”

Harry smiles. “Just checking,” he says. “Well, obviously I’ll share all the posts as well, but I was thinking I could DM a few big Christmas accounts on Twitter - and maybe you should speak to Selfridges, see if they’ll tweet?”

Louis nods. “I don’t know how willing they are to help, but good idea.”

“Then I was thinking I’ll join some Christmas groups on Facebook and share the post there, and I know of a bunch of subreddits I can send it to. Oh, and Tumblr! There’s loads of big accounts there. And if you send me the video, I could make a TikTok account and post it there?”

Louis’s smiling at him. “You’re a proper brainbox, aren’t you?”

“It was your brilliant idea, I’m just expanding it,” Harry waves off the compliment.

Louis chuckles. “Okay. Well don’t worry about TikTok, obviously I don’t know anything about it but I sent the video to Lottie, she says she’s got that one covered.”

Harry ends up spending the next few hours with Louis; they move to the sofa and scour social media for places to send Louis’s post. It’s around midnight by the time they’re yawning too much to focus, and so Louis insists they call it a night and sends Harry next door. 

Kris is in bed asleep when Harry checks on him, his door wide open and Olivia curled up at his feet. Harry goes to his own room and gets undressed in a half-asleep stupor, exhausted after a long last day of preschool on top of the night with Louis. But he’s happy. They have a plan for Kris, and Harry thinks he and Louis make a pretty good team.

❄❄❄

**Saturday, December 20th**

Harry wakes up around ten to so many notifications he has to scroll forever to get to the beginning of them. His Reddit posts have blown up, as have his submissions to the Facebook groups, and he’s got tons of messages on Tumblr and Twitter from people who’ve been directed to him to share their stories. He can’t wait to show Louis; it’s only been one night and he’s pretty hopeful there’s already enough submissions to argue Kris’s case.

He gets up and throws on a shirt and shorts, having been so tired last night he’d slept in his pants for the first time since having a guest. He follows some lovely smells out to the kitchen to see Kris making breakfast and already having fed Olivia - things he’s been doing all week, which Harry appreciates.

“Good morning, Harry,” Kris says cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” Harry says, taking the plate of pancakes Kris offers him. “You?”

“Oh, yes, very well,” he says. “I feel even more confident now in Mr Tomlinson’s case for me, and so I slept much easier.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Harry says after he takes a sip of the coffee Kris has made for him. It’s just the way he likes. “I’m feeling confident about it too.”

“I assume he’s told you his plans?” Kris asks. “You were over there awfully late last night.”

“Mhm, I was helping spread his posts around,” Harry says. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. And I’ve woken up to so many stories today I don’t think I can count them all.”

“Already?” Kris says, surprised. Harry nods. “Well, I must say that bolsters my confidence even more! And are you coming out with us this evening?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry says. “I wouldn’t miss it. And I thought as Louis will have his hands full, I can keep Natasha occupied.”

Kris smiles. “Oh, she’s a lovely girl.”

“She is,” Harry agrees.

“And it’s lovely the way you look after her. You must care about her a great deal.”

Harry blinks at him. He’d thought that was obvious. “Of course I do. She’s one of my favourite people.”

Kris studies him over his little golden spectacles. “And Louis? How do you feel about him?”

Harry feels himself flush and tries not to choke on his mouthful of pancake. He drinks his coffee to buy himself time to speak without feeling flustered. It only sort of works. “I care about him too. I think he’s an amazing person.”

Kris hums. “And you’re content with your place in their lives?”

Harry’s heart is pounding. He hadn’t expected it but he knows Kris has seen right through him. And he doesn’t know how to answer that question without confessing everything, but then he supposes it doesn’t matter. Kris already knows.

“I like the way things are,” he says slowly. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish for slightly more.”

Kris hums again. “I suspected as much,” he says. “So, what are your plans for the day? Mr Tomlinson told me we wouldn’t be leaving until around four.”

Harry takes a second to process the abrupt subject change. “Umm, I was thinking I’d go next door after my shower, actually. I wanted to compare with Louis, see how many stories he was sent about you.”

Kris’s eyes twinkle, but he just nods. “I might stay here. I’ve got work to catch up on myself.” 

He doesn’t offer any more information, and Harry doesn’t ask, busying himself with finishing his breakfast.

After he's washed the dishes, he asks Kris the thought that’s been bugging him since he woke up. “Kris, I'm curious. If you’re really Santa, which I believe you are, are you really bound by our laws? I mean, if you can magically pop all around the world in one night, why would you stay confined against your will?”

Kris smiles sadly. “Mr Tomlinson already asked me this,” he says. “Yes, theoretically my magic should be able to get me out of it, but unfortunately it doesn’t work that way. I  _ am _ bound to human law as soon as I step foot in your countries. I couldn’t get out of it if I tried - if the humans decide I am to do something, then I must do it. My magic won’t work to save me.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “Well, shit. We really are trying to save you, aren’t we?”

He thinks all week he’s been hoping some sort of magic will save Santa. It’s scary to find out it really is down to them.

“Yes,” says Kris. “But I have faith.”

❄

Turns out Louis has received even more submissions than Harry did, and they sit and compare while Natasha colours in a colouring book on the floor. Louis’s already started a Google doc he’s copying the stories into, and has compiled all the photos people have sent into a Drive folder, and he gives Harry access to them, so they sit for a few hours sorting out submissions. There’s stories from all around the world, so occasionally they exclaim, “I’ve got someone from Brazil!” or “This one’s from 1962!” The stories tend to be closer to the current decade, and there’s a heap from people in Manchester who saw Kris this year, but there are quite a few from the 80s and 90s. It’s interesting to be able to chart where Kris was spending his time.

“Holy shit,” Louis says. He looks up at Harry with wide eyes, glancing at Natasha who’s ignoring him, humming to herself. “I just got a new one. Someone says they saw the post last night, but they had to ask their mum for the picture - there’s a photo of someone in their family from the 1870s, and the man in the photo is the spitting image of Kris, look!” 

He turns his laptop around to show Harry the Facebook message. There’s an old photo of two children posed with Santa, and oh God - the Santa looks exactly like Kris. 

“He hasn’t aged,” Louis says. “It’s been a hundred and fifty years. Do you think that’s his grandfather?”

He sounds like he’s wildly grasping at straws, holding onto the last thread of his disbelief.

“No, Lou,” Harry says gently. “I think that’s him.”

Louis looks dumbfounded. “Jesus. I mean, it’s brilliant for the case, but terrible for my mental state.”

Harry grins at him. “Coming around, are you?”

Louis scoffs, but Harry can tell he doesn’t mean it. Then he sighs. “This was possibly the cleverest plan you could’ve come up with, you know. Having me represent Kris. I’ve got to be impartial in my research and then argue against what I believe.”

Harry laughs. “It wasn’t a plan, we just needed your help,” he says. “And besides… you can’t tell me you’re not halfway convinced at this point.” He gestures to the photo on Louis’s laptop.

Louis frowns at him, but it’s playful. “I can’t tell you I’m convinced, either,” he says. “But for Kris’s sake, I can pretend I am.”

Harry smiles. It dawns on him that Louis really is putting aside a belief that’s so intrinsic he passed it onto his daughter, and he’s doing it for Kris, and also because he’s a kind, wonderful man. But Harry’s pretty sure he’s, in part, doing it for Harry as well, and the thought makes him feel valued and so pleased.

❄

Harry loses track of time; they only stop working when there’s a knock on the door.

“Oh, shit, that must be Zayn,” Louis says, jumping up and going to the door.

Harry’s only met Louis’s best mate a handful of times. He’s ridiculously beautiful and kind of intimidatingly quiet, but he’s a softie and he loves Natasha. 

Louis throws open the door and lets Zayn and his new boyfriend in, and Harry turns to see who this mystery bloke is - and then he laughs.

Because what the fuck. It’s Liam.

“Harry? What’re you doing here?” Liam asks, looking confused. 

Zayn looks at Liam, _more_ confused as to how he knows Harry.

“You know each other?” asks Louis, looking perhaps the most confused of all.

Natasha’s frowning, as if she recognises Liam but can’t place where, then she says. “Oh! You’re an elf!”

“That’s not very nice, Tash,” Louis says absently, and Harry wants to laugh, because what? Does Louis think that’s some new insult?

“No, she’s right, I’m a shop elf,” Liam says with a smile. “We met at Selfridges. Hello again.”

“Liam and I used to work together,” Harry says. “When I was a shop elf.”

“Oh,” says Louis.

“Small world,” says Zayn.

“So… what are you doing here?” Liam asks Harry.

“He looks after my daughter,” Louis says, a weird edge to his voice.

“Oh,” Liam says, looking between Natasha, Harry, and Louis, and putting everything together. “ _Oh._ Okay. Right. We kinda skipped introductions, I’m Liam.”

Louis laughs sharply; Harry can tell he’s trying not to say something smart. “I know. I’m Louis.”

“And I’m Natasha, in case you forgot,” Tash says.

“I didn’t forget,” Liam says. Harry can’t tell if he’s lying. “Nice to see you again!”

“You too, Mr Liam,” Tash says politely.

“Right,” Zayn says, clapping his hands together. He still looks a bit unnerved. “Now that we’re all introduced, and re-introduced… should we get going?”

“Mhm, let me just get this one ready,” Louis nods at Tash, who’s not dressed appropriately. “We’re running a bit late.”

“When are you not?” Zayn says with affection.

“I’ll just pop next door and get Kris,” Harry says. “Excuse me.”

❄

Once they get to Winter Funland, they’re stopped pretty quickly by a child who asks Kris if he’s Santa. Zayn’s already recording, so he catches it on camera.

“What do you think?” Kris asks the boy kindly. Louis and Liam are already speaking to his mother, explaining the situation and asking her permission to film. She agrees readily, as if she, like her son, has a sense about Kris.

“I think you are,” the boy says. He can’t be more than five years old. “You’re not dressed like him, but you are. I can feel it. You’re magic.”

Kris lets out a jolly laugh. “You’re very clever, Peter.”

The boy gasps. “You know my name? You _are_ Santa!”

Kris winks at him. The mother wishes him all the best, and Kris the same to her, and then they continue on their way.

“That was easy,” Louis says. “Few more interactions like that and we should be set.”

“Let’s hope we can find other parents who can agree to filming their child so easily,” Liam says.

“I think people get it,” Harry says. “Those who believe, anyway.”

Louis looks at him curiously. Maybe he doesn’t see it.

“I feel like, if you believe, you can kinda tell Kris is Santa. It’s this weird feeling, and it’s like he’s got this magical aura,” Harry says. Everyone’s looking at him; Liam and Zayn are nodding, Kris looks pleased, and Louis and Natasha look confused.

“Well… that’s weird,” Louis says. It’s not judgemental, but Harry flushes anyway. “Let’s hope some of the board members believe and can see this aura thingie for themselves, then.”

They run into so many people wandering around who are happy to have their kids recording interacting with Kris. Among them are a heap who have already met him this year at Selfridges, and they’re upset for his circumstances and very happy to record testimonials talking about their experiences and stating that they don’t think he’s dangerous. Most of them even say they believe he’s the real Santa.

After a couple of hours, Liam convinces Louis to go off with Harry and Tash on some of the rides and to see the Frozen show. He says he and Zayn will stick with Kris and keep recording, but they’ve definitely already got enough footage.

Harry’s really pleased when Louis agrees, and an already nice evening turns downright delightful. They ride the carousel, and Harry wins Natasha a stuffed bear, and then Louis wins _Harry_ a stuffed bear, and they see the Frozen show. Watching the joy on Natasha’s face as she sings along with Elsa is only matched by the soft look in Louis’s eyes when he notices Harry watching her. 

The Frozen cast sing Christmas songs, and they all sing along, even Louis. With Louis by his side and Natasha holding his hand, Harry really feels like all _is_ merry and bright.

❄❄❄  
****

**Sunday, December 21st**

Harry heads next door after breakfast again with his laptop, Kris in tow this time. With the hearing tomorrow, Harry knows Louis will be buried in the case and he wants to help as much as possible, and Kris is happy to keep Natasha company.

They all end up sitting in the lounge. Harry’s got headphones on, editing all the videos from yesterday. Louis is compiling the avalanche of stories they’ve received, and working on his argument, and he’s wearing headphones too, saying listening to music helps him focus. And also helps block out the sound of Natasha and Kris watching films - they’re going through all the old claymation ones, currently on Santa Claus Is Coming To Town, a supposed biography of Santa’s life. Natasha is quizzing Kris on how accurate it is; Harry can hear them through the gaps in audio while he’s editing. Seems like almost all of the film is fictional, which doesn’t surprise Harry, as it had always felt that way to him.

He spends the majority of the day editing, while Louis works on the case and Tash and Kris work their way through every old animated Christmas film. He’s only really interrupted when they’re watching the old Rudolph and Kris gets offended at the portrayal of Santa, going on a long rant about how he would never treat anyone that way and certainly not Rudolph.

“Even the song is wrong!” he explodes. Harry’s never seen him so fired up; it’s enough to completely distract him from editing. “Nobody teased him! Nobody would! Everyone in the Pole knows that our differences make us unique, we celebrate them!”

“Well that’s good to hear, isn’t it Tash?” Harry says, trying to calm Kris down.

“Yes,” she says. “Bullying is never okay, and it’s weird this film would have a Santa that’s okay with it. Since Santa’s whole thing is that people are nice.”

“Exactly,” Kris says, deflating. “That’s exactly right, Natasha. I’m glad you understand.”

Kris ends up going to make dinner while Natasha continues watching the film, saying he can’t stand it any longer. Harry catches Louis’s eye and Louis makes a face. Harry interprets it to mean that Louis is closer than ever to believing, because why would Kris react that way if he weren’t Santa? He was personally offended, for crying out loud.

They take a break to eat together, and share their progress so far, and it’s nice, the four of them. Harry’s going to miss Kris; regardless of what happens tomorrow, he won’t be living with Harry any longer. 

He’s also going to miss having an excuse to spend so much time with Louis, but he’s trying not to think about that.

❄❄❄

**Monday, December 22nd**

Before they leave in the morning for the hearing, Kris says he’s had an idea for a hail Mary.

“Not that I don’t believe in Mr Tomlinson,” he says. “But just in case.”

“Okay,” says Harry. “What do you need?”

“We just have to stop in next door,” Kris says.

That’s easy enough. They were already planning on going with Louis and Tash, so they just leave about ten minutes earlier than planned. Harry knocks on the door and Louis opens it, toothbrush in his mouth.

“Hey,” Louis says, smiling around his toothbrush. He’s so cute Harry has trouble focusing. “We’re almost ready.”

“S’okay, we’re early,” Harry says as Louis lets them in. “Kris wanted to get something from you.”

“Oh, really?” Louis says, still muffled around his toothbrush. “Lemme spit this out and I’ll - ”

“Actually, not from you, from Natasha,” Kris says.

“Oh, alright,” Louis says. “S’cuse me.” He takes off towards the bathroom, calling for Tash as he goes.

She’s out of her room in a flash, dressed warmly in her jeans and an oversized hoodie. “Hazzy! Mr Kris!” she greets, her face bright.

“Hiya Tashie,” Harry says. “Mr Kris has a question for you.”

She turns her little face to Kris.

“It’s a favour, really,” Kris says. “I was hoping we could bring your elf Niall with us today.”

Harry frowns. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that.

Natasha looks confused also. “Niall? But why?”

“Oh, just in case,” Kris says cryptically. “I have a feeling he can help.”

Natasha shrugs. “Okay. He was in my room this morning, c’mon. You’ll have to get him as I’m not allowed to touch him.”

Kris looks proud as he follows her to her room. “That’s right,” he says. 

Harry follows too and helps Kris find a box to put the elf in. He wants to ask what Kris’s plans are, but he decides not to. He trusts Kris, and he kind of wants to be surprised.

❄

Arriving at the hospital where the hearing is taking place is a bit of a shock. There are people everywhere, a huge crowd with signs chanting “SAVE SANTA!” and people in high-vis jackets corralling them.

Harry, having volunteered to drive, tries to navigate where he’s supposed to go to park, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Louis gaping from the passenger seat.

“I did not expect this,” Louis says. “It’s like a protest. People must’ve wanted to show their support in person.”

“How lovely,” Kris says, sounding touched.

One of the security people gestures for Harry to go forward into the car park, and then he’s past the bulk of people. He lets out a sigh of relief and finds a parking spot. Once he parks, he sees that Louis, Kris, and Tash have all twisted around, still watching the crowd of people. Now that he’s not driving, Harry can appreciate how impressive it is.

“That’s gotta help your case,” Harry says.

“Hopefully,” Louis says. “Hopefully the hospital isn’t just annoyed by them.”

“It’s nice to see the support, anyway,” Kris says, sounding emotional.

“They all believe in you,” Tash says quietly. “You’re really important to a lot of people.”

Kris smiles at her. “Thank you, Tash. No matter what happens today, I’ll try to remember that.”

❄

The hearing is small. There’s the five tribunal members, Louis and Kris, Dr Winston (the psych Simon Cowell enlisted), Dr Corden (a psych from the hospital who’s already evaluated Kris), and then Kris is allowed two witnesses. That’s Harry and Liam; Liam met them just before the hearing, sitting with Harry and Tash at the back of the room. Tash has been allowed in for moral support.

Harry feels like he and Liam are also there for moral support.

Dr Winston is called on first, as he’d submitted the recommendation for Kris’s sectioning. He outlines all of his reasoning, and paints a damning picture of Kris as an unstable, violent, delusional menace to society. It’s such an exaggeration, so far from the truth, such an absurd caricature, that Harry is deeply offended on Kris’s behalf. He half-expects Kris to voice objections, but actually Louis looks the most visibly angry of the both of them.

It’s not a trial, of course, so Louis can’t make actual objections. He waits his turn, and then he lays out his argument and how he’s going to set out to prove it. He mentions all the testimonials they’ve received and the people gathered outside. Then he calls on Liam to make his statement.

Liam talks about working with Kris, how genuine he is, how wonderful he’s always been with the children. Liam says he fully believes Kris is the real Santa, and that putting him away would be entirely detrimental to society.

Harry’s up next, and though he’s a bit nervous, he manages to talk about how Kris has been living with him and how he’s been an exceptional houseguest. He talks about all the behaviours he’s witnessed, and how they point to Kris being actually Santa and not anything Dr Winston asserted.

Then he’s back in his seat, and Louis presents the tribunal with the stories they’ve compiled into a PowerPoint. He goes through them as quickly as possible, only lingering on the ones from different eras or countries, but he also makes sure they note how many have come from Manchester this year. And then he shows the video from Saturday, which came together quite well if Harry does say so himself.

As Louis wraps up his arguments, the tribunal members look overwhelmed, and Dr Winston looks like he’s falling asleep.

Lastly, the head of the tribunal calls on Dr Corden for his evaluation. He’s a cheerful looking man, and his review of Kris is far less scathing than Dr Winston’s. It’s not overwhelmingly in their favour, either; basically impartial, really. He doesn’t think Kris is violent, but he thinks there’s an equal chance of Kris being Santa vs being deluded. He says he believes Kris is harmless either way. 

When he’s finished, the head tribunal member says, “Alright. We’ll take a brief break to discuss this and be back with our decision. I must warn you all, however, that I believe it will be near impossible for us to rule definitively that Mr Kringle is Santa Claus.”

Harry’s heart sinks, and he watches Louis’s shoulders slump. He’d thought it had gone so well. The tribunal members leave. 

Louis and Kris meet them at the back of the room. Louis looks defeated, but Kris seems optimistic.

“You did a marvelous job, Mr Tomlinson,” he’s saying.

“You really did,” Harry chimes in. “You were brilliant.”

He’s a bit awestruck really; he’s never seen Louis in action before. And this wasn’t even a real trial. Harry doesn’t know if he’d survive watching Louis in an actual courtroom.

Louis smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks,” he says. “Don’t think it mattered in the end, did it?”

“Oh, don’t count your reindeers before they’ve flown, that’s what I always say,” says Kris. Harry tries not to laugh at the expression. “Natasha, do you have Niall’s box?”

She nods, picking it up from where they’d stored it under her chair. Kris takes the box back to his and Louis’s table.

“How long d’you think they’ll be, Lou?” Harry asks. “Should I take Tash and grab some lunch for everyone?”

“Oh, if you could,” Louis says gratefully. “They’ll be at least half an hour, I’d say, unless they’re all unanimous immediately. I’ll text you if they come back.”

Harry and Tash go down to the cafe outside the hospital. There’s still people everywhere, intermittently chanting for Santa and singing Christmas carols.

“Do you think we’ll win?” Tash asks Harry as they wait in line.

“I don’t know,” Harry says truthfully. “I think there’s quite a lot of evidence that Kris isn’t who they say he is, and hopefully there’s enough that he is the real thing.”

“I hope so,” Tash says. “I wish I could’ve spoken, but Daddy didn’t think it would be professional.”

“What would you have said?”

“Well, I’d say Mr Kris is very kind and lovely,” she says, and then frowns. “And he’s not what that mean man said.”

“You’re right, he’s not.”

“But I’m still not sure completely that he is Santa. I’ll have to wait and see if he makes my wishes come true,” Tash says, her frown turning thoughtful. “So I suppose it’s good I didn’t speak, then. Since I can’t say for certain.”

That’s probably part of why Louis didn’t want her to, Harry realises. “I suppose so,” he says. “You’re closer than before though, aren’t you?”

She nods shyly. “He’s very convincing,” she says. “So are you, Hazzy.”

Harry smiles, and then it’s their turn to order.

❄

They’ve all eaten the croissants and muffins Harry had bought by the time the tribunal finally comes back. Some of them look unhappy - and Harry realises with disappointment that it’s the ones who’d seemed most affected by Louis’s argument. Oh no. 

He doesn’t think they’ve convinced the head of the tribunal.

Kris and Louis must sense it as well, because before the head can speak, Louis raises his hand.

“Mr Kringle would like to make a statement, if he may.”

The head sighs. “I’m not sure what difference it will make.”

“Oh, go on, let him,” says one of the more sympathetic members.

The head shoots her a dirty look, but waves a hand. “Go on then.”

Kris stands up. “A bit over a decade ago, I realised the world’s population was too high for me to keep adequate track of the behaviour of the children. And so I developed a system. Some of my elves would travel throughout the world, pose as dolls, and then report back to me. Young Natasha here has kindly allowed me to borrow her elf, so that I may show you something that nobody gets to see. I hope this will show you that I am who I say I am.”

He opens the box on the table and lifts out the elf inside.

“Come on Niall, up you get. It’s alright, I promise. Wake up.”

Niall gives a full body shudder, and a shower of green sparkles fall from him, and then - then he’s animated. Kris puts him on the table, and he stands and gives a wave.

The tribunal members look gobsmacked. Harry hears Tash gasp loudly. Louis launches out of his chair, looking back at Harry with a horrified expression.

“He _was_ alive!” Louis cries, seemingly completely forgetting his professional demeanor.

“Of course I am, yeh feckin’ idiot,” Niall says, Niall _says,_ in a thick Irish accent.

Though he’s mildly surprised, Harry feels vindicated above all else. He was _right._

Everyone’s talking at once, until the head tribunal member gathers himself and orders them to be quiet.

“I’m not certain that this proves anything,” he says. Harry’s annoyed with him now; how can he not see what’s right in front of him? “This could just be an advanced toy.”

Niall looks offended. “I’m not a bloody toy!” He flies off the table, a trail of sparkles behind him, to land on the desk in front of the tribunal. “I’m real as can be! Ask me anything you like!”

“Are all elves Irish?” one of the tribunal blurts out.

“Nope,” Niall says. “Me family is though. Elves adopt all kinds of accents, we travel all over to watch the kids, don’t we.”

“Right,” says another member. “Tell us something we don’t know, then?”

Niall turns back to face the room, scrunching up his little face in thought. “I saw Louis eat all the candy canes off the tree at seven in the morning and then he blamed it on _me_ when Natasha asked.”

“Oi!” Louis cries.

“Daddy,” Natasha gasps, sounding scandalised.

“Is that true?” one of the tribunal asks Louis, as serious as a judge.

“Yes,” Louis says begrudgingly.

“Is that enough to convince you, Robert?” another one of the tribunal asks the head. “I mean, come on. I told you Mr Kringle is obviously Santa, you can just tell! And this elf is obviously not a toy!”

“Hmph,” is all the head, Robert, says. Harry thinks he’s just objecting on principle now.

“I’m made of flesh and blood, I can assure yeh,” Niall says, hopping closer to Robert and touching his hand. “Yeh can touch me and see.”

Robert tentatively takes Niall’s hand and then feels his arm. He sighs. “You’d be very advanced if you were a toy, I grant you that.”

All four other tribunal members groan.

“We’ll overrule you Robert, the rest of us are agreed,” says the woman who’d spoken last. “You’re only holding out because you’re a nonbeliever. It doesn’t make you impartial, you know.”

Robert sighs again. “Given the evidence, and the opinions of my colleagues, it is the decision of this council that Mr Kringle is of sane mind and ineligible to be placed in our care.”

The room erupts in cheers; first Tash, then Harry, he can’t help himself, then Liam and Louis and Kris. Even some of the tribunal members clap joyfully. The head of the tribunal excuses himself and Dr Winston slinks from the room.

Tash runs over to Louis and Kris, wrapping an arm around each of their legs. “Oh, well done Daddy! And Mr Kris! You did it!”

Harry and Liam join them as Louis says, “We did,” looking a bit dazed.

“Thank you, my lad,” Kris says. He’s never seemed all that burdened by all this trouble, but now Harry realises he must have been, because he looks jollier than ever, like he’s so lightened he could float away. The magic emanating off of him has become palpable.

“I just can’t believe that little fu- uh, I mean, the elf. Can’t believe he’s alive,” Louis says.

Niall’s zooming around the room, and he stops to land on the table beside them. “S’cuse you, mate. I’ve heard every horrible thing you’ve said about me.”

“I’m sorry!” Louis says, not sounding very sorry. “You creeped me out!”

“You’d love me if you got to know me,” Niall says confidently, then he looks at the rest of them. “Hiya Harry.”

Harry starts. “Umm, hi.”

Even as convinced as he was that Niall was a real elf, it’s still disconcerting to see him alive.

Natasha’s staring at Niall with big eyes, and he turns his bright smile onto her. “And hi there, little Tash.”

“Hi,” she whispers.

“I’ve been sending nothing but good reports about you, you know,” Niall says. “You’re wonderful, I’ve loved being your elf.”

She looks bashful and pleased. “Oh. Thank you. I’ve loved having you.”

“We’ve all enjoyed seeing you, Niall, and you’ve helped tremendously,” Santa says. “But I’m afraid it’s time for you to go to sleep again.”

Niall pouts, and so does Natasha.

“Am I never gonna see him like this again?” she asks, sounding upset.

“‘Fraid not,” Niall says unhappily. “But now you know, I’m real, I’m here, and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Tash says. 

Harry glances at Louis, who’s looking back at him sadly.

“I’m sorry,” Santa says. “Sleep time, Niall.”

Niall’s face slackens, and then his body, and he crumples onto the table, inanimate once more.

Tash sniffles as Santa puts him back in his box. Louis picks her up and gives her a cuddle.

“C’mon, love, it’s a happy day. We saved Christmas!” Louis says.

“Yeah,” Tash says, attempting a smile.

“Why don’t we get some gingerbread hot chocolate to celebrate?” Harry suggests, and that gets a genuine smile out of her. And so they leave to celebrate.

❄❄❄

**Tuesday, December 23rd**

Harry wakes up to see the world outside covered in snow. It must have been heavy during the night; there’s a thick, deep blanket of snow over everything.

Santa had packed up and left last night, after thanking Harry profusely. He said he had to get back to work; Harry wasn’t sure if that meant Selfridges or the North Pole. Either way, he’s gone, and the flat feels empty without him.

He feeds Olivia and then makes his own breakfast. As he eats he wonders what Louis and Tash are up to today. Harry’s got no plans. Would it be overkill for him to visit them? Are they sick of him by now? He’s seen them four days in a row. Surely Tash won’t be sick of him, she never is, but Louis might be.

The thought makes him feel a bit blue. He thinks he’s gotten used to spending so much time with them. He doesn’t know how to go back to normal, and he really doesn’t want to.

At least he’ll be spending Christmas Day with them. That’s a consolation.

After he’s washed his dishes, there’s a knock on the door. He opens it, not bothered about showing himself in his fuzzy lavender dressing gown.

“Hazzy!” says Tash when he opens the door. She’s all bundled up in a puffy yellow jacket, Louis standing behind her with a sheepish smile. “Daddy and I were gonna play in the snow, d’you wanna join us?”

“You don’t have to,” Louis says immediately. “And, uh, good morning.”

Harry’s beaming, he knows he is. “Morning! And I’d love to! Let me get dressed first? Do you want to come in?”

Tash lights up even further. “Can I cuddle Livvy?” Harry nods and she tears off inside. “Livvy!”

“Sorry,” Louis says as Harry lets him in. “For barging in on you, I mean.”

“No bother, I was feeling lonely,” Harry smiles at him. Louis finally gives him a genuine smile, clearly relieved. “Make yourself at home, I won’t be a minute.”

❄

There’s nowhere to really play in the snow at their flats, so they walk to the closest park. It’s literally a Winter wonderland, and Harry and Natasha are both overjoyed at getting a white Christmas. Even Louis, Scrooge himself, seems pleased.

They make a snowman, interrupted in intervals by Harry and Tash both throwing themselves onto the ground whenever they feel an urge to make snow angels. Louis laughs at Harry and says he can’t tell who’s the biggest child, him or Natasha.

“Heyyyyy,” Harry pouts. “You can’t tell me snow doesn’t bring out your inner child!”

“When I don’t have to go about me day in it, I suppose,” Louis agrees reluctantly, but he’s biting back a massive smile. Harry sees right through him.

He bends over and packs a snowball together, throwing it square at Louis’s chest.

“Oi!” Louis yells.

“Inner child, Lou!” Harry cries, and then he and Tash team up to pelt Louis with snowballs. 

Louis gets his own back, of course, and it’s a full out war until Harry somehow runs right into their snowman, knocking himself to the ground in a flurry of snow.

Louis’s there in an instant, offering him a hand up. “Are you alright?” he asks, and his concern warms Harry through his soaked clothes.

Harry giggles. “No damage to anything but my ego,” he says as Louis helps him to his feet.

“Good,” Louis says with a laugh. “Oh, no. You’ve murdered our snowman.”

“Mr Snowman!” Tash says, playfully mournful. “Hazzy, you have to help me make him a gravestone.”

Harry laughs and helps her find a large rock to place in their snowman pile. They stand over the grave and Louis says sombrely, “Here lies Mr Snowman. He lived a short life until he was brutally murdered, but he was very loved.”

“Rest in peace, Mr Snowman,” Tash says seriously, dropping a handful of snow on his grave.

“Sorry for killing you,” Harry says, releasing his own handful of snow.

“God, Harry, you’re sopping wet,” Louis says.

Harry shivers a bit. “Mhm,” he hums. “Just a casualty of war, I suppose.”

“Do you want to go home?” Louis asks. Harry really can’t handle how concerned Louis’s acting with him today.

“But Daddy, you said we might go ice skating,” Tash pouts.

This is news to Harry. Louis looks at him apologetically, then back at Tash. “Not if Harry’s soaking, love.”

“Why don’t we drive to the Ice Village?” Harry suggests. “I’ll warm up in the car.”

“Oh, yes, please can we Daddy?” Tash asks, bouncing a bit.

“If Harry’s sure,” Louis says doubtfully.

Of course, they have to walk back to the flats to get Harry’s car, and by the time they get there Harry can’t stop shivering, so Louis makes him go upstairs and change.

The Ice Village is packed with people, but it’s beautiful, even more of a Winter wonderland than it is outside. Harry can’t stop humming the song. They spend at least an hour ice skating; Tash skates circles around both Harry and Louis, and she and Louis end up on either side of Harry holding his hands so he doesn’t lose his balance. He’s grateful he’s focused on not falling over, since otherwise he wouldn’t stop thinking about Louis’s gloved hand in his.

Inevitably, Harry loses his balance, and sends all three of them toppling over. After Louis checks thoroughly that they’re both unharmed - Harry’s a bit winded and his bum feels bruised, but he doesn’t mention that part - he insists they give up on skating and get some hot chocolate.

Once they’ve warmed up and recovered, they explore the ice cavern. It’s downright magical, and Harry feels so happy to be included in this wonderful day. He can’t help thinking, however, that this is how he wants to spend every Christmas - every December - every _day,_ and it’s a dangerous train of thought. But the soft, caring way Louis is treating him, coupled with the way Tash is acting like they’re both her dads, is making it easier than usual for Harry to get lost in the fantasy.

❄❄❄

**Wednesday, December 24th**

Harry wakes up bright and early on Louis’s birthday to make him a two-tier chocolate cake covered in buttercream. If he were a different person it might be too much, but Harry thinks Louis knows him well enough to know how much he loves baking. 

Last night, before he’d gone home, Natasha had given him a rundown of their plans for the day - she said they’d be watching Home Alone, because it was their tradition and the only Christmas movie Louis would allow on his birthday for some reason, then they’d go out for an early dinner, and then to Lightopia in Heaton Park. Then she’d invited Harry to join, and he desperately wanted to, but he had to check with Louis three times that it was okay. The third time, Louis had looked exasperated but fond and said, “Yes, H, I promise we’d both love it if you were there.” And Harry finally believed him.

He’s still a bit surprised, and maybe kind of perplexed, that Louis would want to spend his birthday with him. He’s trying so hard not to foolishly get his hopes up, but he feels like something has changed over the past few days. He feels closer to Louis, like maybe Louis’s gotten used to his presence the way Harry’s gotten used to being around the two of them. Like maybe Louis doesn’t want to go back to the way things were before Kris either.

At least he hopes so. He’s trying not to be blinded by hope, trying not to dupe himself into getting his heart broken, but he’s also trying not to let his fears keep him from acknowledging the signs that Louis at least wants him around.

Maybe it’s just platonic. Harry will find a way to deal if that’s the case.

He eats lunch and watches a Christmas episode of Friends, Olivia curled up and purring in his lap, then he showers, washing out the flour he’d somehow accumulated in his hair that morning. He gets dressed in black trousers and his least festive jumper, a sky blue one with clouds printed on it. Today is about Louis, after all, not Christmas, and the blue reminds him of Louis’s eyes. He makes sure Olivia’s content, then packs up the cake and Louis’s birthday card and heads next door.

He just barely manages to knock on the door without dropping the cake. Louis opens it with a smile on his face that quickly turns surprised.

“H, did you make me a cake?!”

Harry smiles. “Mhm. You know I love baking.”

Louis blinks. “Well, yeah, but I… you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Harry says, and he’s pleased by Louis’s reaction, because he’s obviously surprised but in a good way. It’s not that Louis thinks it’s weird, it’s more he doesn’t know why Harry would bother.

After a pause where Louis is clearly lost for words, he steps out of the way and says, “Oh my God, come in.”

Harry takes the cake to the kitchen and Natasha meets him there.

“Oh wow, Hazzy, you made a cake!”

“Yep,” Harry grins at her. “Your dad needs a cake today, doesn’t he?”

“Yes!” she agrees. “Can we do candles before we watch Home Alone?”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis says. “Lemme find a lighter.”

Harry already put candles in the cake before he came over, but he puts the lighter on the counter when Louis gives it to him. Louis looks at him quizzically.

“I wanted to give you your present first,” Harry says shyly, handing out the envelope. He’s suddenly nervous. He didn’t think the cake was too much, but this might be.

“Oh,” Louis says, looking surprised again. “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“But I wanted to,” Harry says again. “Just open it.”

It had taken him ages to decide what to put in the card. He’d wanted to be heartfelt without spilling all his feelings. Eventually he’d landed on _‘Louis, happy anniversary of the day you were given as a Christmas present to the world! Thank you for all the joy you’ve brought to my life this year, and for allowing me to be a part of yours. I hope your day is as special as you are. Love, Harry.’_

Louis takes out the card and reads it, then gives Harry his best sunshine smile. “That’s lovely, H, thank you,” he says, and then he takes his present out of the envelope and his mouth drops open. It’s three tickets to Fall Out Boy in March.

“I thought you could take Tash and Lottie, or Zayn,” Harry says nervously.

“What?” Tash says, pulling at Louis’s hand so she can see. “Oh! Fall Out Boy! A concert! Daddy! Are we gonna see Fall Out Boy?!”

Louis nods numbly, then he looks up from the tickets at Harry. “Don’t be silly, H, you have to come with us. I’m giving them back if you don’t, this is - ”

“Don’t say it’s too much,” Harry says. “I’ve told you all year not to pay me, so…”

“Oh my _god,”_ Louis groans. “I can’t believe you.”

But he’s happy, Harry can tell, and he grins, his nerves gone. “I decided to save up and get you concert tickets a while ago,” he says with a giggle.

Louis’s eyes shine. “Of course you did,” he says, shaking his head. “Thank you, love. This is brilliant. Give us a cuddle.”

After a brief but frankly wonderful hug, with Natasha wrapped around both their legs, they light the candles and sing happy birthday. Natasha insists Louis make a birthday wish. Then they get comfy on the sofa with cake, Natasha squashed between Harry and Louis, and watch Home Alone.

❄

Lightopia is otherworldly. It’s gorgeous, all the light displays, and Louis is even moreso, glowing underneath them. Harry can’t take his eyes off him.

If he’d thought it was hard not to get lost in his fantasies yesterday, it’s even worse tonight. Dinner at an actual restaurant, just the three of them, for Louis’s birthday, felt startlingly like a family date, and also so natural. And being here, walking around and looking at the lights, taking turns carrying Natasha - it’s just so hard not to pretend this is his family. Harry wants it so fucking bad, and for once he’s giving in to his thoughts, allowing himself to feel how right this is. 

It’s almost perfect; he just wishes that he could kiss Louis whenever he feels like it (all the time), or simply hold his hand as they walk around. But when Harry’s carrying Natasha, Louis steers him with a hand on his waist or the small of his back, and that’s something too. That’s good.

They stay out until Natasha’s yawning and falling asleep in Harry’s arms. She passes out on the drive home, and Louis asks if Harry will come back to theirs and have a drink with him.

“I have very few mates and they’ve all buggered off, I don't wanna be alone on me birthday, take pity on me,” he says, shooting Harry a pleading look before putting his eyes back on the road.

Harry says yes. He’d have said yes even if Louis hadn’t rambled so much when he’d asked, and he kind of wants to laugh that Louis was flustered over it. Mostly he’s just pleased.

Louis wakes Natasha up when they get home, telling Harry that carrying a sleeping child is carrying dead weight and he won’t do it, but once she’s awake he carries her up to the flat. While Louis’s putting Tash to bed, Harry pops into his own place to feed Olivia and grab a bottle of wine.

He lets himself back into Louis’s, locking the door behind him, then goes to the kitchen to get a glass. Louis grins at him from the fridge, where he’s getting out some beers.

“Thanks for staying up with me,” Louis says.

Harry wants to scoff at the implication that he _wouldn’t._ “Of course, Lou,” he says softly instead.

They take their drinks to the lounge, lit only by the Christmas tree lights, and they’re not even halfway through before they’re talking about Santa and the past week. Spurred on by Niall watching from the bookshelf.

“I still can’t get over it,” Louis says, gesturing at Niall. “Can’t believe I got a creepy little elf spying on me.”

Harry giggles. “Don’t call him creepy, you’ll hurt his feelings. Besides, he’ll be gone after tonight.”

It’s Christmas in a few hours, after all. Niall has to return home to the North Pole until next December.

Louis frowns. “Y’know, I think it might be weird not to have him here,” he says. “Despite meself, I got used to ‘im.”

“So,” Harry says, crossing his leg under himself and getting comfy to ask the big question. He’s been wondering since the hearing. “Did Niall do it for you? Do you believe now?”

Louis laughs. “Imagine if I said no!”

Harry grins.

“To be fair, I was wavering pretty hard before that,” Louis says, tapping his lip thoughtfully. “Kris was just… unnerving. He knew all about the Christmas my stepdad left, and I thought maybe you told him - ”

Harry gasps. “I’d never!”

Louis smiles, placating and apologetic. “I know, love, I’m sorry, I dismissed that idea pretty quickly,” he says. “And he swore you didn’t. And then he knew so many other things about my childhood that you don’t know - and that a random old man certainly wouldn’t know.”

Harry nods. “That’s why I believed he was the real Santa too.”

Louis sighs. “He mentioned a trauma response. That a child going through something traumatic can shut down their ability to believe. He says he finds it deeply upsetting, and he always wishes he could help, but he can’t. He said sometimes kids overcome it with therapy, but,” Louis shrugs. “I find it really sad too, for other kids. For myself… I dunno. My stepdad leaving doesn’t seem like real trauma, does it?”

“Yes it does,” Harry says immediately, frowning. “Of course it does. I think trauma is anything that affects us deeply, and it obviously affected you. It was abandonment, Lou.”

“Mm,” Louis hums. Harry hopes he actually agrees and he’s not just not arguing. “I suppose, yeah.”

“We’re all different,” Harry says. “Something that might not affect one kid at all can be completely devastating to another. And it was your birthday, Lou, oh my God. I wouldn't even question that it was trauma.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Yeah, no, you have a point.”

“I do,” says Harry, taking a triumphant sip of wine.

“Anyway, so, I believe. You got me.”

Harry giggles. “I wasn’t trying to _get_ you.” Not like that, anyway. “We just needed your help.” He pauses. “Is that why you defended him so well? Because you believe?”

“Oi, no, because I’m a fucking good lawyer!’ Louis complains and Harry laughs. “And, uh. Actually. I defended him for you.”

Harry swallows. “For me?” he squeaks.

It's nothing, he tells himself. He means it platonically, they're just mates, if that. It was just a favour between mates.

“Of course, for you,” Louis says softly. “I’d do anything you asked, H.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what that means, if it means what he hopes it does. “I, um. Me too.”

Louis finishes his bottle and puts it on the coffee table. He doesn’t grab his second one, instead he settles back into the sofa, fiddling with his jumper sleeves and focusing an intense gaze on Harry. “I need to tell you something, and please feel free to tell me to fuck off and we’ll never speak of it again - ”

Harry’s pretty sure he’s not breathing. He’s gripping his glass so tightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter.

“I lied earlier,” Louis says. “If I didnt wanna be alone I'd spend my birthday at Mum’s. I wanted to spend it with you. And I was hoping having a drink might give me the courage to maybe tell you how I feel.”

Harry swallows thickly. It’s like his heart’s in his throat. “How you feel?” he echoes, his mind empty aside from one single racing thought of IS THIS IT IS THIS HAPPENING -

“Yeah,” Louis says softly. “You’re, like. The best thing to happen to me since Natasha, you know. You’re incredible, so kind and lovely, so good with her. You’re fucking beautiful and I think you have the best heart in the world.”

Harry flushes under the compliments, but he has to disagree. “No, you do.”

“No, you,” Louis says with a teasing smile. “Don’t fight me on that, Harold. You’ll lose.”

Harry pouts, but he gets over it quickly, because, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Depends,” Louis says. “Do you want me to be saying it?”

He looks uncertain, nervous, more nervous than Harry’s ever seen him. He doesn’t like it. Louis should be confident always.

“Yes,” Harry breathes. “I really, really do. More than anything.”

Relief washes over Louis’s face. “I love you, Harry Styles,” he says, then looks mildly surprised, as if he didn’t expect to confess that much.

Harry can’t help smiling, his nose scrunching up with the force of it. “I love you too. What the fuck,” he laughs, feeling a bit delirious. “I never thought you’d feel the same way. I mean, before this whole Christmas thing we didn’t speak much, and you just pay me to look after your kid, I thought that’s all I’d ever be.”

Louis’s looking at him awestruck. “Are you serious? I don’t think you understand how you changed my life,” he says. “Firstly, the way you took the pressure off. I didn’t have to rely on Lottie and my mum and Zayn and countless babysitters. You were there and Tash loves you so much and I never had to worry when she was with you. Of course I wanted to pay you, what you do is priceless, with you she’s safe and loved and happy. But paying you at least gave me some peace of mind that you wouldn’t have to stop looking after her. Not that I expected you to forever, but you understand I wouldn’t have felt secure if I didn’t, yeah?”

“I guess so,” Harry says, slightly overwhelmed. “You have to know, too, that I would’ve happily kept looking after her for as long as you wanted me too. You guys have changed my life too.”

Louis gives him a relieved, pleased smile. “That’s good to hear,” he says. “Was good to read it in your birthday card too.” He winks. “And – the reason I may have been cold to you – ”

“Not cold,” Harry protests, because Louis wasn’t, never has been. “Just a bit distant.”

“Right, okay, distant. It’s because of how I felt. I liked you instantly, you know? And I thought if I kept you at arms length I wouldn’t upset things. I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, and then once Tash loved you, I knew I couldn’t jeopardise that. I didn’t think you’d ever…”

Harry’s shaking his head in disbelief. “As if it would’ve jeopardised anything! As if I haven’t been obsessed with you since day one. As if I haven’t had to stop myself fantasising countless times that you guys are my family. That you’re mine.”

Louis’s growing smile turns into a grin that he cutely tries to hide, biting his lip. ”Obsessed, huh?” he says smugly, inching a bit closer, taking Harry’s wine glass and putting it on the table.

“Yeah,” Harry says, suddenly breathless.

“Yours, huh?” Louis says, so close Harry could kiss him.

“I want you to be,” Harry somehow manages to say, staring into Louis’s eyes, until Louis flicks his gaze down to Harry’s lips.

And then they’re kissing.

It’s a soft kiss at first, sweet, as if neither of them can believe they actually get to do this. Harry certainly can’t, and all of his feelings swell in his chest until he’s sucking on Louis’s lip and then it’s like they’re devouring each other, pouring all of their pent-up emotions into each other.

Louis breaks away with a pant, pressing his forehead to Harry’s, and then he asks, “So, when am I getting my performance of Santa Baby?”

Harry cackles, surprised, and slaps at his chest. “You don’t think that’d be a bit weird, now that we’ve met Santa?”

Louis looks him up and down, his eyes dark. “No.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he swings his leg over and straddles Louis's lap. He feels silly, but he’s too giddy not to, and besides, he’ll give Louis anything he asks for. Especially on his birthday. “Think of all the fun I’ve missed,” he sings softly, breathily, trying not to feel like a fucking idiot. “Think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed.”

Louis’s eyes are darker and darker, hungry, and Harry feels fucking sexy instead of ridiculous.

“Next year I could be oh so good,” he bites his lip and flutters his lashes, grinding down just a bit. “If you check off my Christmas list.” Then he adds a silly little, “Ba doop be do,” and tries not to giggle.

Louis kisses him, his hand grabbing a fistful of Harry's hair. 

“Can we take this to your room?” Harry mumbles against his lips. “I don’t fancy Niall watching us.”

“Oh my god,” Louis laughs. “Yeah, c’mon.”

❄❄❄

**Thursday, December 25th**

For the first time ever, Harry wakes up in Louis’s bed. The bed’s empty, but Louis isn’t far, sneaking back into the room with two steaming cups of tea.

“Is this like, for real?” Louis asks. “It’s okay if it was just the heat of the moment, or the wine, or whatever, but you should probably get dressed before Tash barges in if that’s the case.”

Harry knows Natasha has strict instructions to stay in bed until seven AM every Christmas, and the clock beside Louis's bed says it’s 6:04. They’ve got some time.

“It wasn’t the wine,” he says slowly. “It wasn’t the moment. It wasn’t a one time thing, for me. I told you, I’m obsessed with you. I’ve been in love with you almost all year.”

The smile that takes over Louis’s face is like actual sunshine.

“And I’m happy for Tash to know whenever you want,” Harry says. “That’s up to you.”

“Let’s not tell her until after presents,” Louis suggests.

Harry’s a bit taken aback; not that he minds, but he hadn’t expected Louis to want to tell her right away.

“Are you sure you want to tell her today?” Harry worries. “I don’t want to ruin Christmas.”

“Um, you’ve already made this the best Christmas ever,” Louis scoffs. “Ruin Christmas. Anyway, you’re still coming to Mum’s today, aren’t you? Do you want to spend the day not touching and trying not to be obvious?”

“No,” Harry decides easily. “I don’t think I could be not obvious about you if I tried.” He smiles. “I’m too happy.”

Louis melts. Harry watches him fucking melt. He leans in and gives Harry a tea-flavoured kiss. “I’m happy too,” he says. “And Tash will be too. She loves you.”

“I love her,” Harry says, and he has to take a sip of tea. His throat feels thick. “So what are we telling her? I’m…”

“My boyfriend?” Louis suggests, shrugging. “I mean, I’d suggest jumping straight to marriage, but I do understand it hasn’t been a day yet.”

“That's okay,” Harry says, snuggling into Louis’s side. “You gotta get me a ring first.”

Louis lets out a strangled laugh, which Harry thinks is a bit weird; he’s the one who brought up the whole marriage thing. Then, “Erm, actually,” Louis says. “I thought it was… I didn’t know what to make of it, but Kris gave me something before he left.”

He reaches over and rummages through his bedside table, before he pulls out a box. A jewellery box. And Louis opens it, and there’s a ring inside – a silver ring with a large pearl setting, surrounded by small pink stones. It’s beautiful. It’s perfectly Harry.

“He just said it was for the right time,” Louis says. “And I said, when will I know it’s the right time? And he was like, ‘Louis my boy, when you know you know,’” he says in a funny imitation of Kris, then pulls a face. “So specific. But I know he meant for me to give it to you. I mean, it was made for you.”

“It’s beautiful,” Harry breathes. All other words have escaped him. It’s too soon for this, he knows it is, they’ve literally just gotten together, but he also knows he won’t be anything other than disappointed if Louis puts this ring away for ‘the right time’.

“And he was right,” Louis says. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s the right time – from a lot of perspectives it probably isn’t. But I know about you. I know you’re it for me.”

“You’re it for me too,” Harry says.

“And if you want to wait – or if you want the perfect proposal, which you absolutely deserve – ”

Harry shakes his head. “What if I don’t want to wait?” he asks, and Louis lets out a breath, relaxing.

“Then I’d say, when you know you know,” he says with a wink, then he laughs, and Harry laughs too.

“Can I try on my ring?” Harry asks, still in disbelief, and Louis takes it out of the box and puts it on his ring finger. It’s a perfect fit, of course. Harry can’t get over how good it looks. How right it feels. “I think this is the right time,” he says softly, trying not to cry. “I think you should ask me.”

Louis sucks in a breath, like he’s actually surprised. He puts a hand on Harry’s jaw and tilts his face to look him in the eyes. “Harry Styles. My boyfriend of five minutes.”

Harry giggles.

“Will you please marry me, and be my daughter’s other father, and continue making us happier than I ever thought possible?”

Harry can’t help a few tears dripping out. Louis gently wipes them away, and Harry nods. “Yes, of course, always,” he says, answering each of Louis’s questions in turn, and then he kisses Louis. Properly.

They still have twenty-eight minutes until Tash is allowed up.

❄

They manage to finish in time and Louis throws on some joggers and a jumper, offering the same to Harry. Turns out there was no rush; when they check on Tash, she’s still asleep. 

“D’you wanna get her up? I’ll go and make us some tea,” Harry says.

Louis smiles and nods, then kisses him before he lets him go. Harry heads to the kitchen in a daze, his lips still tingling. He feels as if he’s in a dream.

He doesn’t know how to wrap his head around the fact that Louis is his now, let alone his _fiance._ Harry wants to scream, he’s so happy.

Instead he busies himself making tea, and then Louis’s bouncing into the kitchen, a sleepy Natasha rubbing her eyes behind him. 

“Hazzy?” she says, blinking, clearly not expecting him. “You’re here early.”

Harry smiles at her. “Happy Christmas, love. I wanted to do presents with you, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” she says.

Louis comes ‘round the counter to get his tea. Harry smiles at Tash and raises his own mug to take a sip, and he sees her freeze. He doesn’t realise why for a second, and then it hits him that she can see his ring.

“Wait,” she says. “Wait. Daddy? Hazzy? Are you? Is that?” Her eyes are wide and yo-yoing between their faces.

Louis chuckles and wraps an arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his cheek. Harry feels as if he’s glowing.

“Yeah, love,” Louis says. “I asked Harry to marry me.”

Natasha’s mouth drops open.

“And I said yes. Is that okay, darling?”

That question seems to knock her out of her trance. “Yes!” she shrieks, rushing towards them. Harry just has time to put down his tea before she’s crashing into his legs.

Harry picks her up and realises she’s sobbing. “Oh, Tashie.”

“Love,” Louis says, crowding in and wiping her face. “Are these happy tears?”

“Yes, yes,” she sobs. “I’m so happy. Does - does this mean Hazzy will be my daddy too?”

She sounds so hopeful and happy that Harry just about melts. He’s glad Louis’s got his arms around them now, since Harry’s sure he’d be a puddle on the floor if Louis weren’t helping to hold them up.

“If you want me, yeah,” Harry manages to say.

“That’s exactly what I want!” Tash squeals, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into his jumper. “I love you, Hazzy!”

“I love you too, angel,” Harry says, his own eyes watering. He looks at Louis over her head; Louis’s expression is soft and adoring. “And I love your dad.”

Natasha whimpers and Louis says, “And I love you both too.”

They stand cuddled together in the kitchen for as long as it takes for Natasha to calm down and realise there’s presents waiting for her under the tree.

❄

Once they’ve all exchanged gifts and Natasha’s opened her mountain of presents from Louis, there’s only one left for her under the tree. It’s about the size of two shoeboxes.

“It’s to me,” Tash says. There’s a small envelope on top. “It says From Kris!”

“Open the envelope first,” Louis instructs from where he’s cuddled beside Harry on the sofa. Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of cuddling with Louis.

It also takes his mind off the fact that Santa had clearly visited last night. Harry hopes it was when they were asleep, or otherwise, that they were quiet enough that he hadn’t heard any sounds from Louis’s bedroom.

“‘Dearest Natasha,’” Tash reads aloud. “‘I haven’t been able to fulfil all of your Christmas wishes yet, but I hope this makes up for it. Consider him a little friend. Love, Kris.’” She looks at them both in confusion. “I wonder what it is.”

Louis laughs. “Well, open it and see!”

Natasha rips open the wrapping paper and takes the lid off the box inside, and in a puff of green sparkles, Niall jumps out.

“Hiya Tash!” he says happily.

“NIALL!” Natasha yells, completely shocked. 

Harry’s surprised himself, and he hears Louis murmur, “Oh, no.”

“Oh _yes,”_ Niall grins, pointing at Louis. “I’m here for good! Santa let me retire, so I won’t fly back to the Pole anymore - I’ll stay here and be your friend! I’ll turn inanimate again around other people, but not you, and you’ll be able to touch me now and everything!”

“Niall, oh my gosh,” Tash says, close to tears again. “Can I hug you?”

Niall beams and launches himself into her arms, and she hugs him tight.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she says. “This is the best Christmas ever.”

“I can’t believe it either,” Louis says. He sounds unimpressed, but Harry’s pretty sure he thinks this is as cool as Harry does.

“Not a word, mate,” Niall says to Louis over Tash’s shoulder. “I’ll bounce on yer head every night so you can’t sleep if you’re not nice to me.”

Louis looks affronted. “This is my flat! I’ll chuck you out!”

“Daddy!” Tash scolds him. “No he won’t, Niall. In fact, oh my gosh, you can live in my doll’s house! It’s the perfect size for you, I’ll move them all out.”

“That sounds lovely, darling,” Niall says. “Now if you could just get me a tiny guitar, life’d be aces.”

“Hazzy?” Tash says, turning pleading eyes onto him. “Can we get a tiny guitar?”

Harry grabs his phone and opens up eBay. “On it.” He’s actually quite excited to see what other tiny things they can get for Niall.

❄

They Facetime Harry’s mum for a while - she’s annoyed that the time difference means Gemma’s still asleep, but she’s overjoyed when Harry flashes his ring at her and tells her she’ll have a new son-in-law and granddaughter. Harry wasn’t sure how she’d react, if she’d think it was too soon, but really, she’s been bugging him about Louis for ages. She’s probably been expecting this in some way.

She ends up talking to Tash for a while, and at one point Harry hears her tell Tash that getting her as a granddaughter is the best Christmas gift ever. He has to try really hard not to cry at that - and he fails, but it’s okay. Louis wipes his tears away.

They pack up presents and Olivia and head up to Donny around midday. Niall’s content to be left behind with Netflix and a remote control over half his size. They spend the drive singing along to Harry’s Christmas playlist, Olivia meowing curiously from her carrier on Harry’s lap. Harry pokes his fingers through the holes to pat her head and tries not to be anxious about Louis’s family’s reactions to their engagement. He just hopes they’re not unhappy, especially Jay.

He had absolutely no reason to worry. Jay is ecstatic, giving him the biggest warmest hug ever, and the girls crowd around and marvel over his ring. And they’ve all gotten him presents, and they spend the day treating him as if he’s already part of the family.

When he’s asked about it, Louis goes on about it being ‘the shittest proposal ever’ and that he wants to take Harry out on the most spectacular date to make up for it. Harry won’t say no to that, but he also doesn’t mind. He likes that it was just them, in bed, Christmas morning. It’s still special to him.

He also likes that they’re engaged before they’ve even had a first date. He finds that quite hilarious, and he doesn’t think he’ll stop teasing Louis about it for a while.

But ultimately he doesn’t care. This was all he really wanted for Christmas, after all.

❄❄❄

**_ONE YEAR LATER_ **

**December 25th**

Harry’s nervous. He’s gotten other presents for Lou and Tash, of course, but he’d only just found out a week ago and he couldn’t resist keeping it a surprise until Christmas. He just hopes they’ll both be as pleased and excited as he is.

The last year has easily been the best of his life. They’d gotten married, moved into a little townhouse. Natasha’s so happy to live with Olivia full time, and even happier to live with Harry. He’s still her Hazzy, but he’s also her stepdad, and the transition has been easier than even he expected.

Now that they’ve combined their incomes, and Louis’s stopped paying Harry, they’re quite comfortable financially and Louis’s been able to pull back his hours at the firm. He’s home with Natasha at least two afternoons a week, and they’re all in a happy routine now. This December has been even better than the last for quality time together.

And now Harry can’t wait for next December. Because Natasha’s present is a shirt that says ‘BIG SISTER’, and Louis’s is a baby onesie. They look at him with matching surprised faces, and Harry would laugh at how identical they look sometimes if he weren’t so nervous. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Louis asks softly, his eyes shining.

“Um, I think so?” Harry says. “I’m pregnant.”

Natasha breaks first, screaming and throwing her arms around him. Louis joins the cuddle quickly after, and when he kisses Harry he’s smiling too wide for it to really be a kiss.

“Finally,” Natasha’s saying. “I’ve been waiting _forever_ for Santa to finish my wish.”

Harry and Louis tear their eyes away from each other to stare at her. “Your what?” Louis asks.

“My wish, last year,” Natasha says. “I told Santa – Mr Kris – I told him my greatest wishes were for Daddy to work less, and for Hazzy to be my dad too, and for a house, and for a baby. It took him a year, but he did it!”

Just when Harry thought his heart couldn’t get any fuller. It takes everything in him to not burst into tears. Her _greatest wish_ was for him to join their family. _God_.

“I think _I_ did it, actually,” Louis grumbles, and Harry elbows him. “Fine, _we_ did it. I don’t remember Santa being involved.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but you are perfectly wrong. Mr Kris made it happen.”

Louis clearly wants to keep arguing, and honestly Harry’s kind of on his side, but he decides to let her have this one, so he says, “Well, it wouldn’t have happened without you.”

Natasha beams. “I’m so happy,” she says, then she rubs Harry’s nonexistent bump. “My little family.”

Louis melts, resting his hand over hers and kissing Harry again. “Our family,” he echoes. “Can’t believe we’ve topped last Christmas.”

“And they’ll only keep getting better,” Harry says, resting his head on Louis’s shoulder. 

He can’t imagine being happier than he is in this moment, but he knows he will be, and he can’t wait for all the other Christmases to come.

❄❄❄

**Author's Note:**

> hey so sorry for the super quick engagement lmao, i thought i’d follow the movie with that. thanks for reading! there’s a tumblr post [here](https://nobodymoves.tumblr.com/post/638249866095624192/maybe-this-christmas) if you’d like to reblog :) 
> 
> and happy holidays, i hope you and your loved ones are all safe :( <3


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